pyromanicangel

Blue to play, green to dream, red to die.. or so it seems. Atop the Hill, the space below is like a dream from long ago. The eyes of the sky dethrones the mind of the hawk, yet the lightning of his fall has yet to have struck. Tick, tap, the screen goes blank. Another pointless day, another pointless rank. Drip, drop, the poison flows within. Silently, so stealthily, humanity could never win. On the folds of secrets that bring down the mountains high. Through the whispers of the underground 'neath the painting of our demise. It breaks the glass; a whimper, a bang. So sad, they are, they're too many to hang. All the mistakes, the lies,