• Small things linger the longest,
    Like the sparks in darkened skies,
    Machine guns cease their fire,
    On these broken Heaven gates,

    Golden curtains of serenity,
    Surrounded by clouds of smoke,
    With sorrowed twin tales of irony,
    And hypocritically wrong disbelief,

    Flash grenades refuse to hear,
    The wheels on the rusted track,
    Clacking steadily past the horizon,
    Passing by our dreams forever more,

    As I stand here in our silences,
    Take your bullet fire in desperation,
    Your mouth transforms into mine,
    As the kitchen floor is covered in my red,

    Pronounce murder with an accent,
    Pretend not to know what it might mean,
    Let feeling slide down the windows,
    Shut the curtains and wait for the dawn,

    Blindfold the sights you cannot see,
    And the memories your head can't contain,
    Waltz back in forth in the slowing silence,
    Even the shortest things must come to an end.