Painted Black, Marked Red:
On the Beauty of a Time Dead
By: CorrectionFluid
If you seek for the hands
Of a foreign matter
You found yourself in a land
With tears and wonder
And that’s the cycle of the wheel.
You reach for the stars
And the stairs broke down
You found yourself with bruises and scars
In a rare far – away town
Hence the punishment you got.
You’re now drowning your head
With stuff piled up
Trying to ignore the bed
But the job is tough
Thoughts now start to scatter.
If only I’d became too smart
Prepared for the better
My world will not fall apart
And my soul can wander.
But these are just thoughts scattered
Hence the punishment I got,
And that’s the only cycle of the wheel.
