Once again my friend,
we find ourselves walking along our forgotten memories.
but in the end
(we were never the wiser)
we always forgot to look behind us,
the specter of the evening haunts the steps we leave behind,
in the sand,
three pairs of footsteps,
God, Satan and the son of man.
we're not philosophers,
but sure as hell am human.
we take this in stride,
the demon of the hour will never let me live it down,
but this bottle of never ending sorrow will.
constantly waiting for the dark to get darker,
and the light to finally fester.
