Everything Fades to Black

Hair starts to fade at a younger age
as the spine turns blacks and shatters.
With broken glass and diamond shards; we
laugh the lucky feeling away. You can only
take a glance at the morning light before the acid and
flames remove skin from bone. There's a chance
that somebody may change the tune; but the
crowd doesn't look till the tragedy rocks; broken
men on broken streets – waiting for their lives
to move in the right way. They try to sing a
hopeful song but the heart doesn't trust what
the lungs insist; get your ribcage of display.
The more you have the more you stand to loose;
we wait for attention and chant in dulcet tones.
Definition always changes with the social mood -
we pretend to suffocate to break the silence, the world
stops as cameras flash. How do you know the feeling
until you starve? Blisters break through crusty flesh;
the tarmac ropes that bind the world together – if it
feels to good then it probably is but nothing has
gone wrong yet. Money crushes smart ideas and
the ink in the world can't scrawl out a younger life.
There is no living when the ceiling melts; hope
and belief appear in desperation. He was obsessed
with boys with grace and style; with wood-chips
and sour blood staining the knees that sided with
the floor. Every mirror is arranged to reflect the
brighter side; talk all you want, but it's only talk.
It's not an excuse for running away; dwell
on past excuses as worlds collide; all the coins
fall through fishing nets and out of skeletal hands -
trust on eyelashes and smiles to escape the accusing
minds. And the children look to the moon and wonder
where the dark has gone; the moon, brighter than ever,
fights the fire like it is something special. Love is
not something special if it ends in this. Paper men
in paperbacks burn in the crossfire; with ideas in ink
disappearing in the ash and loam. When knowledge
doesn't feel as good as memory and we wonder where
the world has gone; it was easy feeling righteous before
everything started hurting. It takes one thing to change
your mind and none to kill the earth; we hold
high hopes that things could be different – is that so
wrong? We watch the birds melt in concrete ovens
as everything fades to black.