Written by Ben Christo
The desperation and lies,
a slowly fading disguise,
and words are so contrived.
Drawn out in tragic filigree
learning the syntax of grief,
forgot what daylight used to mean.
I can't reach the life before.
Sorrow,
My darkest star; the one I follow:
Sorrow.
All those meanings set in stone
you thought couldn't erode,
worn-out years ago.
This jagged language of the crash,
voices shatter like glass,
just fragments of the past.
I can't reach the life before.
Sorrow,
My darkest star; the one I follow:
Sorrow,
Dead constellation of tomorrow,
Sorrow.