There is dark verge of the light, there is finish of the fight. Sun is setting yellow-gray, it’s the ending of life’s play.
Standing by my side of life, trembling hand with shining knife. All alone, forgotten but it’ll be finished with one cut.
There are whispers of good God, and no people drawing mad. He’s the justice of the world, none of us is being more.
Standing by my side of life, crawling forward into light. All alone, just staring there, where the others have just left.
Well done to think of sontheimg like that