I drove alone through the Saturday night
And the cold that blew-but from where?
From the still vein-blue sky banning the dying light?
Or the twisted trees that punctured the air?
So convienent to be amidst the two
While passing places filled with laughing friends
Then the death wish took its slient que
The kind that only death amends.
I saw in those trees a part of me;
Reaching for the sky that they can never touch,
A futility that nature itself decreed
Thinking they can get there is their only cruch.
Why then take another breath
When my dream is a desperate lie?
And when no life is finally left
My serrated bones will reach for the sky
As for the dying light-What's there to konw
As blackness creeps accross its face
Like my listless dissolving soul
The color vanishes into space.
I see this now, but it's been rough,
And my wounds, though open, no longer bleed.
So I suppose, for now, I'm dead enough,
So I'll just follow the futility's lead.