I started yours,
As will I end,
For all we are
A moment stolen
Rather than given,
Torn from the hands
Of a boundless whisper.
There is no shame.
There is no peace.
And in vision
A greater whole,
A closing earth,
And there is so much left
To be said.
As will I end,
For all we are
A moment stolen
Rather than given,
Torn from the hands
Of a boundless whisper.
There is no shame.
There is no peace.
And in vision
A greater whole,
A closing earth,
And there is so much left
To be said.
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Dead Years
Haunt What's Left
Monuments