by Rotten Apple
death and destruction of life
|Bound beneath crimson covered hands of might.
Grey-blue babies dance in the blackened night.
Rigor bodies forever tied to a reddened fight.
Constricting death ends their horrid fright.
Terrorized under violent palms which squeeze too tight.
Everlasting plateaus of peace call you from such great height.
High above their spirits shine on, brilliant and bright.
Frolicking freely into the warmth of tomorrows sunlight.
Dance across your tragic trails so far from slight,
deep within that blackened plight.
The crimson hands so red and bright, no longer hold your brilliant light.
So dancing babies pass on by, through their forever freeing, final flight.