Never A Full Night's Rest

Never A Full Night's Rest



Can there ever be an true train of thought?

We move at different paces

Similar moons, different orbits



There's an eclips taking place in my mind

The different shadows in the corners of my emotions

Make an illusion I can't bear



Twilight is the sweetest of dreams

It seems the safest place to hide my thoughts

Somewhere sought between two different times



It's sucking the blood from my system

Giving my new life and new light

Everythings is transparent in context



To say "Goodbye" is to have it finished

The last few words on a manuscript

Simply tyed "The End"



An unsatisfied ending to all who feels its wrath

To not say the words is to have them never exsist

Real life is not a dress rehersal



There is no rewrite, take-two, action or cut

Life is raw, alive, untammed and uncut

The wounds it leaves may sometimes be repaired



The person who stiches it up might never let the stiches disolve

Weaving their way deeper into you system, until it's a drug

Something that you must have to live



But others... their wounds are simply etched too deep

There were never any aids, no pain killers, no theroy

Simply just life as it seems at its worst



They were once your craving, now it's left suddenly

Leaving you bleeding and gasping for air

Alone in a dence forest without any North Star



A frozen fire that is stuck in your soul

Burning and melting at your insight and leaving nothing

Nothing but a whithering shell, not heart or intelect



Out of nowhere, just like a breaking dawn, the flame is a blaze

Your vice has returned and the lasting stiches torn

Forsted open to where your addiction is like a sting



When two worlds collide like fire and ice

The earth is simply left alone, watching and waiting

One must beat the other sometime



Could they co-exsist in this upsetting universe?

That it seems would be impossible

Unthinkable to where is it the most painful reilization



To choose ice is to freeze, frost and numb

The sting dissapears and the frozen firse returns as a glow

Simply growing with the passion your ice gives your earth



But the choice of fire is to burn, amber and go mad

Madness with the simplicity of breathing

How easy it would be to go crazy on flame



Trembling with the theory of having to choose

Liquid fule is added to the frost bite and flame

Having the power to choose is the ture utter insanity