Time seems to always escape my fluttering
fingertips.

The world turned black and white with
a splotch of yellow running between the
crevases of this dead place.

Would we run to revolt,
could we stop time and steal a moment
away from the history astray?

Will our spirits and souls float to paradise
above or wash away in the tide rolling up?

Shall I walk alone will he be there
watching over me, asleep or otherwise lost?

Nothing they can say will change my mind,
prove it to me on your own time.

There's something lingering in the sky, something
I can feel, and knows what I think and why I cry.

Unafraid will I walk my path home.