Who wants a cruel and cold thing

that makes us feel like Death in Spring

that puts a damper on all our days

and makes it black in merry May.


But you! curdled prisoner, sour to the lips

would put a frown on all these faces

before the night is done.

I called to you across the ocean

but Hate was my reply.


Who would taste some rotten things

even dipped in crystal springs?

for in those eyes there is such judgment

on something you'll never know.


The wind is gently blowing, and they are gently turning

their heads to sunrise in a darker place

and every moment they lie in wait, "will you save me?"

With nowhere to look, and nowhere to run, but that darker place.


Go! kill yourself over something that will never be

go gorge yourself on false pains and needs

But! just know you're looking the wrong way

- the sun, in the barrel of a gun.


Torture yourself, waste our time

on hopeless dreams and fantasies

but know that there is paradise

if you look the other way.