The New Macabre
Monday, August 24, 2009
How can the light that burned so brightly suddenly burn so pale?
Is it a kind of dream,
Floating out on the tide,
Following the river of death downstream?
Oh, is it a dream?
There's a fog along the horizon,
A strange glow in the sky,
And nobody seems to know where you go,
And what does it mean?
Oh, is it a dream?
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