melancholy.

you see?
i can’t see
i can’t see
i can’t see
i can’t begin to explain
all the things i’ve been doing
in preparation for the end of the world
and it(‘)s coming
foretold
will be so
silent
{{not with a bang, but a whimper}}
and it’s imminent, i guess
yet i fight it
yet i imagine endless days of
waves crashing against sun’s rays
mid-air tango
between the forces that hold me together
silent and beautiful
a fight to the death
of purity
expecting its surprise
attack from the depths
of this bliss
is just leaving me unprepared
for this