Бывают вещие сны, бывают вещие песни.

Dawn's tired eyes make shadows the day's first casualty
as you lose my eyes again, you fell too short, everything has changed
my trust fades

I cannot see the sun
first light never to be seen again
as I come to terms with another death of a close past
the final straw of a drawn out hate, well I unfold

half light arcs across the pavement, leaving it dull
the highest clouds on the edge of space converge,
I’ll do this on my own

why should I be grateful?
for a broken love, and a broken respect
when it tears me down,
I’ll get back up, and I’ll stand my ground