As the wind drifts within the atmosphere,
The sky of stars were tailored with nightmares:
I search my mind for dreams that could be near
As my head fills with pictures of time's scare.
O, time slowly ticks away at wit's end
As quickly until I watch the sun drop
To Earth's horizon, vanishing again.
When terror's levels rise up to the top,
I asked I, "Will these terror's ever
holt?"
I get no answer in return from I,
For my soul has lost it's interests. It jolts
As it squirms and pain seek'ths ones lost eye.
If terror starts to mumble and meddle,
My mind flutters shut, terror has settled.
