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.