It's the way the ocean forms around the land
the way its tripping, liquid-coated hands softly sheet our trembling lips,
and it's laughing and it's saying Don't be coy with me, I know everything and soon we'll be sinking knowing nothing at all.

The day is folding its wings and falling in the ducts of somber nights
and the sky is compressing the darkness in its lunar mist, a haphazard attempt to clench together the dusk
as twilight sheds its nefarious wings and screams Don't you know who I am! and our whimpers are death-wishes falling forwards.

Paradise, it's a clock striking thirteen, it's a taken-for-granted euphoria mirrored by the reliance in our eyes
and the hope in our smile, shackled down only by how far we're willing to believe but the walls are crumbling and
this Arcadia is falling while the boy outside with the subdue eyes only ask, why do you seem so sad; don't you want to be saved?

(Who is the real enemy?)


"You seem unhappy; don't you want to be saved?" - Bleach
I just changed the words a bit.