Who said the fallen leaves are dead,
With veins that don't carry dark red?
Haven't you seen them slow dancing,
With winds wild and energizing?
Drifting through roads covered in question marks,
Drifting into seas where grave danger lurks,
Drifting through the corners of a mind so pitch dark,
We watch our living kin ignite with just a spark.
As the flames spiral out of control,
We slow dance with our half broken souls.