untitled first hope project

and the yellow eyes of death
what give you your dying breath
burn from nothing but the best
which is the absence of all hope

and it is in these balls of flame
that dance the dead, both strong and lame
and all the souls that own the blame
for all the pain the world endures

and every pointing finger shows
what every righteous person knows
that all the hatred always flows
from every other human being

and now when nothing can be seen
nothing filthy, nothing clean
when love is few and far between
except for one's own self

a crack will open in the dark curtain
and although i am not certain
all the pain and all the hurtin'
will decrease a few degrees

and if you can stand on broken feet
and kiss the sun to spite the heat
then its with pleasure you will meet
the only one whom you can cope

you

yourself

can hope