Needle_Chill
War Child
Return
The river runs right through,
It flows with fridged blue.
To see at last
This stream of glass,
I'll make my way to you.
Dew dripped grass upon a hill,
In empty field we lay still.
Leaves of gold,
Off trees of old,
Victim to an autumn chill.
A mountain peak risen high above,
No match for heights of pale dove.
To see what came,
To do the same,
And bring to rest a fallen love.
Vast reaches of a great divide,
Fill him with a solemn pride,
What life has become,
Yet still she runs,
A flame that flickered will not die.
The firefly flew gently by,
Cascades of light to darkened sky.
Hid from the day,
Was led astray,
Soon it's light will reach blue eyes.
A life is lived sometimes in pain,
Depression, cold nights, the piercing rain.
In time you feel
Inside you may heal,
To me you will return again.
The river runs right through,
It flows with fridged blue.
To see at last
This stream of glass,
I'll make my way to you.
Dew dripped grass upon a hill,
In empty field we lay still.
Leaves of gold,
Off trees of old,
Victim to an autumn chill.
A mountain peak risen high above,
No match for heights of pale dove.
To see what came,
To do the same,
And bring to rest a fallen love.
Vast reaches of a great divide,
Fill him with a solemn pride,
What life has become,
Yet still she runs,
A flame that flickered will not die.
The firefly flew gently by,
Cascades of light to darkened sky.
Hid from the day,
Was led astray,
Soon it's light will reach blue eyes.
A life is lived sometimes in pain,
Depression, cold nights, the piercing rain.
In time you feel
Inside you may heal,
To me you will return again.
