Can we hold hands at the end of the world?
Can we feel together the waves of disruption,
The weeping of the earth as her acid tears sear our flesh,
And leave our bodies ruined,
but our souls beautifully untouched?

Can we fly on wings tattered and torn
By the pain in our troublesome past?

Are the clouds soaring overhead,
Swirling into oblivion...
As the eyes of the devil descend upon us,
Look through us in stark recognition?

Can I feel relief and safe
In the mere grasp of your hand again?

Can I see the end of everything in truth
morbidly prophetic, in a way...
yet we still bind ourselves together,
vines wrapped around a single vulnerable heart...
Beating weakly, but alive.

Though we stare down the gates of Hell,
Our souls remain pure, together.
Apart, devided, we would fall
Into the chasms of despair,
Never to return.

So answer me this...
Are we still holding hands,
At the end of the world?

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