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Poem

The trumpet will play
a sweet prelude, to earth's last tired breath
but Gabriel shall not call me
I shall leave long before his dance of death

The distant drums are what I hear playing
across the sea and through the storm
a calm rumbling surrender
like the two kings that went before

If I could just lay down in my killer's blood
then I may see hope for what it is
Revenge sometimes loses out to cowardice
the weak of heart are tricked to feel dismissed

Long ago when we were so green
we wished away the day
not realizing we were the lucky ones
like sand in hands all seeped away

Yet these things all come to an end
even for them who ignore the faintly call
or those who wait around, joining one of many
who fear the first melody of the horn

Then it's too late and dance you shall
to the rhythm of panic and real fright
you've prayed for the first and last time
yet you still succumb to the light

A world sat wrapped in blue, while red takes rest
oh how it once could save you
One card staining black the entire deck
just carry on, try to play through

It means nothing now or when you wish
for the sun to shine like it did before
Burn and press, never rest
confusing the remedy with the cure

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