Redprisma

Time passes, Iron decays, My purpose is fading, my structure eaten away. See the way I cry when I'm put to work? It only eats at me more, It only hurts. Everyday I wait for the moment, when they will take me off this wall and I cease to ferment. The fires of hell I hear men speak, sound wonderful and pleasant, Oh what a treat! To be rid of this rust, This dust and blue, To be awakened and reborn, To be once again anew. What could be worse than flame? For so many seem afraid. To remain stagnant, To always be the same.

For every heart there is a musician that can play the strings just right, For every day there is light, For every bird there is flight. For every hand fits a glove that can block out the cold, For every young there is old, For every crease there is a fold. And if our souls should ever part, A tide of grief would flood my heart.