Tile floor under his feet
Cold as any day had ever been before
Icy rays shine white down streets building walls
Exhast stains pristine roads till evening falls
A pit collapses under his thoughts
Their reflections are now becoming one
The horizon line is turning on an axis
Fueled to the edge of perception
Moments foreshadowed in dreams undeniably real
The manifestation of sores
And as the pasture opened up its arms
Days lost in an abstraction
This mind has strayed away
Glacing down as he begins to fade
Decades die and still there's no escape. More from Belie My Burial