Open the gates to heaven.
shut them before I step through.
place me wherever I can find
the last exception to the truth.
Deceiving is the scene,
a lanscape of pure demise.
a theatre of the dead,
where no one really dies.

In the end, we all burn,
cognate by a reflection of our lives,
stranded by the drought of tears
that never rained from our savior's eyes.
To set us free of sin
penance is now the sacrament of eternity.

Held back pain created by compromise
lived through the remaining years
living those lies.
Praying for a chance to rise above the rest.

Instead we burn like the sun,
through the core of our souls.
with depth of perception,
depth still grows.
Yet we live to regret:
life hasn't happened yet.

Brilliance came through second chances
the human race couldn't get.

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