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A Thought's Dying Breath
October 6, 2010
With one final incline
Of his monitered lifeline
This must be his sign
To enter the Divine
To leave his desires
And to finally transpire
Be accepted by gold choirs
Or perish in black fires
The death of the Beast
Be Earth's next great feast
To join the shadows of the deceased
The last voyage of the artiste
But before turning to dead
We see the last images in his head
Theres nothing left to dread
As he dies in his bed
And now off to his sleep
to take his great,final leap
His soul,Yours to keep
With the sound of one last beep.
© Anonymous
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