And the streets are lined with colours,
As angels part ways with one another,
They share that life as they float past,
A passing kiss; a memory that will forever last.
I'm a dead poet this art I wrote it,
Lay awake all night I know it,
Standing here I look into the rain,
Pouring down my face I now obtain,
The sight to fall asleep and remain.
My hands are covered with this ink stain,
These pages are all frayed; Shouldn't have stayed,
With myself for so long inside I don't know if I should run or hide,
Stare into these dead eyes,
Im a poet and I will die alone,
Let the rains come i'll sink like a stone,
As I stand in the rain and watch the angels dance to and fro,
As the tears fill my cold eyes,
As the tears wash away all that was,
All the pain I ever felt,
Because of you,
Because of what I put you through,
Because of what you let me do.
Dead Poets. |
