In brief war by Charon
So your promise to live expired,
Got old before your lips went dry and I fel the breeze inside to caress
what’s left the open fire.
The faith took part but cannot stay,
Still we felt cold,
Freezing flames of this funeral pyre,
Built to brake down, made to wither away,
Come along too.
For the last time very little of me wants to surrender in brief war.
Despite the things I’ve said the crush no longer care.
Beyond the smile I hate and the more I hate the more I think of you.
The more I think of you.