Death’s hand rips the numbers we so viciously cling br We stare at the dirt wishing we could sing br br All shall some day sing of the sky br When we finally allow our passions to die br br But here we all still sit, br Munching on dirt and grit br br Oblivious br br When will we relish in the clouds br br My addiction I do not share br My sadness I grimly wear br br Sanguine thoughts of my existence br Where is His providence br br What is time and why br br All is the same br But the lie I so fearfully tame br br All are lost, but opine the way br They only discover what it means to be gay br br Not this time, no interlude br This story never seems to conclude br br No, for our form transcends br Far beyond which the mind bends br br None shall cross br None is crossbr br Wandering Scarletbr br