So, rest your weary head to the wall of the past's pain,
with a glass to your ear, and listen to every broken spirit
speak from the other side. Each raspy voice with a story
that will brake and angel's heart. Where each hopeless tale
links to another broken life.

will the sun never shine on the windward side?

Must i remain stranded and breathless among only my shadow
in the flooding of my insanity?

Will my breath be continued to be stricken back until each
rose has bloomed in the spring showers?

and will every ear bleed to my mourns of agony and cries
from the burning piercings of my heart?

Or will some one stand and open their mouth to taste the
acid rain of my forbidden tears even if there is no water to
drink?

No, no soul will be brave enough to dive into the abyss for
my sake. i am but a rock in a patch full of diamonds. Where
the wind, water, and ice take and brake me as they please.

So, rest your weary head to the wall of the past's pain,
with a glass to your ear, and listen to every broken spirit
speak from the other side. Each raspy voice with a story
that will brake and angel's heart. Where each hopeless tale
links to another broken life.