Cold Mornings Are Better Than No Mornings At All

Cold mornings are better than no mornings at all,

So further in from any dawn of the soul,

Have you ever tried to live in black orbs?

Entrapped in the vast land of your empty corpse

There, reality becomes a set of arbitrary rules,

With your jobs, hospitals, stores and schools,

Enforced to keep an illusion of being alive,

Designed especially for you to survive,

But survival is an instinct you buried deep

When you first felt the darkness creep

And the universe revealed its angry face

Inside you and it settled in its place,

Then it started mutating and multiplying

And you found no alternative to bluntly lying

To convince the mornings to come anew

Tell them they haven't completely lost you,

But nights aren't dead, they're more like dying,

Heart quickly sinking and soul slowly flying,

All the crying and the laughter of your loved ones,

Does nothing for you to pull up the deceased suns

The cradle is empty, the grave is empty as well,

And you have an entire life that you need to sell,

Its your purpose that justifies all your sins,

So you plea to god for just one last win,

Sell your life, sell your soul, sell it for odes,

The night has already fallen on all the roads,

So walk all you want, the night is the night,

And kick all you want, and fight the good fight

Fight with your honor and lose it in a toss,

Dream frantically of your next great loss,

And water your chains, bring forth the rust,

I'll get stabbed in the front if its all about trust,

I'll lay my neck down for you if you promise,

That your blade will follow through and never miss,

You see, my poetry is broken and it's all the same,

Say the night, obsession, death and your name,

Say the pain and the chain and a kiss goodnight

The storms of cold and lava streaming bright,

And I still live in a black orb that I built,

While the sun is tired of living in guilt

That it cant warm me anymore, so it left,

And my heart has carried a lute bereft,

And played dirges down every street,

A Pied Piper with quick jolly feet,

Leading all my ghosts around my town,

Taking them to the bloody river to drown,

Taking all the time he needs with me,

Do whatever you want but don't set me free,

I can still make more ghosts to love here,

And if my guilt dries up there's always fear,

So don't you worry about me going sane,

There's no salvation for those who love pain,

As long as the chains dangle from the trees,

And my heart quickens and I fall to my knees,

My will flees and takes with it the light,

And I can't sleep without my ghosts overnight,

And lustrous moons become where I rise to fall,

So cold mornings are better than no mornings at all.