To fall, to fly, 

To scream to cry, 

To love, to die, 

A Dance of fire, light and storm.

 

I want, I hate, 

I hope, my fate,

That not too late, 

My life will finally regain it’s form,

 

The duality of man, 

Never one and never still,

A wish to kill, 

To do, what no one can…

 

The dream of that, which is beyond,

All our life, we wish to see, 

Though it could never truly be,

A form of simple Purity.

 

But we are children of this world,

Could never be perfection,

Are spirits wild and vivid in complexion, 

With an eternal hunger for correction.

 

We are but simplicity,

Our brutal drive for a connection,

The perfection that we deify,

Which let’s us view all with such hate.

Let us dream of Imperfection.