There are sometimes
There are every times
There are infancy times when you look for love
And you seek for the perfect love, the perfect time
They are the moments that choose you
When you are looking for faith
But these are times when faith will seek others
And not you
You are ready to lose conviction…
There is a season for series
There is confusion in the faces
You then receive the anomaly
And the faces will crush you like surrounding walls that fail
That you should initially should not call
And onto the gods that do not respond
To your calm
You are ready to be heard…
Then there are those who respond to you
Those who seem to call your ball
You speak of faith, you try, you fail
To those who give you weary theories
To dreary occupations
Of non-grander
To nothing at all
As you stand in a circle of a coiled plunge
You are ready to be judged…
The child inside you will still ask why
The time will continue to pass us by
We will be here now
Waiting for the cycle of blood that has been lost
Over the transmission of hours,
Days, and the suns inferior setting in the nights skies
I’ll build and never ask why
I’ll ignite and twirl to the clouds
You are ready to skip all prerequisites…
We are old and have new facades
Our language is now fundamental, but useless, banal
Our souls obsolete
All kinder and respect, sad and fallen
Apocalypse is now
Receptacle clear and all becomes distant, forgotten
You lay under the porch; you wait for the flash…
You have prepared for this and have always been ready…
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