Might makes right and the feelings keep rushing.
They grow and swell and overwhelm.
It is rushing, sweeping, growing, leaping.
It is joy and rage and sadness sleeping.
I can't makes it stop, can't let it drop!
And I don't want it, won't let it, I need it, grasp it, clasp it close!
Apathy flows to set the stage.
When words roll the music starts to play.
They connect and pictures join the fray.
The story builds until it ends,
With emotion tainting everything.
A hollow soul, an empty mind brings peace along a sting.
It is echoing silence and shadowed walkways That the curtains slowly cover.
It is a blank canvas that waits for insanity.
Imagination is the drug with our hands supplying the cure.
When Death passes the tide recedes,
Until the vessel fills with shattering need.
The circle starts and never ends So we breathe and drown and flow again.