She Left Out Of The Wrath Filled Meadow Poem by Christopher's Dead

Down at the bonfire, that’s where I saw your face
Through the flames and distorted fumes that blow through the haze,
Trying to reach out just to grasp, but your hold
Pulls away from me, probably was just a little to bold,
Burned my hand, I look up again to see
The darting faces there just staring at me,
And look down, the fire’s burning but you aren’t there,
Never were, now the smell of burning ashes is all that I’m
Left with, guess it’s really too late
To explain the reasons why I lost myself in the hate,
So next time, if there is, let’s take control,
Because your fate is my fate, and we’re all about to fall.

Hold on, don’t you know, it’s a long way down,
When you’re falling but you still got your feet on the ground,
Just in time, you’re too late, it’s okay to be sad,
Though I know, you never cared,
Guess you’re just another person around.