Night falls over me again,
Creeping its way into my head,
And past any hope for better days.
Oh darkness descending,
Oh darkness descending,
Why upon me?
Why upon me?
I have known you for long,
This is so true,
Yet no matter how much I hate, loving you,
We still, bedfellows estranged do make.
Oh darkness descending,
Oh darkness descending,
Why over me?
Why over me?
Something won't let me smile,
For when a faint Joy in my heart begins to bloom,
Some abstract Fear steals it away-
Yet even if I knew the Thief,
I would have to let him go,
For as much as I long to feel the sun again:
Oh darkness descending,
Oh darkness descending,
Why not over me?
Why not over me?
Let it be.
Just let it be.
Darkness falls inside my head,
And it begins to storm,
I let it rage in the name of its Cause,
For there is plenty of sunshine where I don't dwell these days-
But this is said as if Sorrow is a choice,
Dwelling within a land where Despair is an autonomic reflex of the Soul
than it is Artifice or Vice.
Oh darkness descending,
Oh darkness descending,
Why upon me?
Why upon me?
When there are so many other places where you could be.
I wretch and I heave,
For in Hope I do believe,
And therefore also grieve, also seethe.
Yet perhaps this is why the darkness is more sought,
For caring hurts too much in a world which could care less-
And it's us against the world,
It's us against ourselves,
And thus we grieve.
It is neverending.
But my affliction is not nearly as deft,
As my line of defense, masterfully erected within the Realm
of Ideas, Thoughts, Emotions and Words:
The Poet's Atonement.
