Callow youth so foolish;
Mirrored by what they face,
Chasing the lines we trace.
Willed in their way;
A palace in the sky,
From death we fly,
Souls that never die.
Each a shroud, a tear;
Truth hobbles, unable,
Hope exists by fable.
Despair at what is certain;
The innocent cries,
Such beauty in their eyes,
The bedrock of such lies.
Mirrored by what they face,
Chasing the lines we trace.
Willed in their way;
A palace in the sky,
From death we fly,
Souls that never die.
Each a shroud, a tear;
Truth hobbles, unable,
Hope exists by fable.
Despair at what is certain;
The innocent cries,
Such beauty in their eyes,
The bedrock of such lies.
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