a monster shielded in bloom
honey dripping from the vile
black was washed clean again
despair never remained
for hope had overcome
it tried to creep back in
good things had to stay
there was no more empty
for it had been filled up
there was no more dying
for the dead were made again
oh how I wish I had the imaginatiorium
the spectacle to draw what I dream
a pallet of digital thought patterns
in vibrant colour and fixation
all the weeds were weeded out
and the grass was never greener
especially on the other side
because we got here and immediately were convinced
past all the bad dreams and let downs
even to the road of promise
but this is all ahead
all of this has yet to happen
but it will
"I think we were made too pretty..." - As Cities Burn
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