This It moves away Echoes In the pouring rain He runs away The shadow thats left of fate Walking the empty halls in a grey font page The rows of words fade The door opens, he walks outside Sandy storm beach miles covered in sky Ocean waves sway back and forth Froth and foam soak his shorts He lingers and waits The rain streams down his shirt Reavealing all his scars The canvas of his work Oh how often has he thought of blood The purest form of truth and love Crimson dropplets manifest his heart So glacially cold set in frost Permanently bleating and palpataing The violent sea begins consticting He smiles and walks deeper