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Desiccating Souls - Ii

Lately it has become frosty, the sun hasn't even came out.
I got sick of wondering what the whole thing was about.
I just wish all those two-faced people would stop lying!
Because inside, my heart is bleeding, my feelings slowly dying.
Talk, talk and just nothing more than beginnings, middles and ends.
Principles and conclusions which changes like the winds.
The want for love and future plans, shows just how great are life's demands.

How bad can the scene really be inside?
And how many eyes have cried and cried.
With everything that's in their mind,
So far yet so near, with no end to find.
Part of the cause is memories,
And for them there are no remedies.
What will come of the morn and the days?
Who will stand with the purpose and ways?
What shall be known of the days we've wasted?
What will you do with the time you've wasted?

You didn't help them when they fell,
Because you don't see this part as well.
Your gift of a gentle touch or embrace.
Don't ever miss that precious chance.
It's horrid to feel nothing, no emotion, no feeling.
Maybe we have to sleep in a coffin to help us start dreaming.
When griping pain, despair, and gnawing grief overtake,
And the front you have been portraying is just a fake.
You need to make sense of what's in your mind.
So that an end to this mess we maybe can find.

Death is something that we all dread,
We lie thinking about it alone in our bed.
The urgency builds up and its too much to cope;
All I can do is sit, pray, and hope.
For this endless circle of life is full of illusions,
And men shall come to their conclusions.
Our time is frail, fleeting, and brief,
No matter what our will or belief.

Nobody cares if they make it through the night,
How long can they stand up and fight?
Just the thought of it brings me to tears,
Yet often have I, thought people cares.
Now I'm used to the darkness, but I don't like it one bit.
For I don't know when the light will be lit.
Hold on to the tightrope, don't fade into night
God will always be there, there'll always be light.

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