Written by Ben Christo



The desperation and lies,

a slowly fading disguise,

and words are so contrived.

Drawn out in tragic filigree

learning the syntax of grief,

forgot what daylight used to mean.



I can't reach the life before.



Sorrow,

My darkest star; the one I follow:

Sorrow.



All those meanings set in stone

you thought couldn't erode,

worn-out years ago.

This jagged language of the crash,

voices shatter like glass,

just fragments of the past.



I can't reach the life before.



Sorrow,

My darkest star; the one I follow:

Sorrow,

Dead constellation of tomorrow,

Sorrow.