Building battlegrounds with baby's hair
We choose not to see we're half way there
Tartaros' flames licking at our heels
Never knowing what the halos conceal

Blow the bubble as big as you can
We still cannot catch the better man
Millenia pass without much fare
The blue sky itself will cease to care

Pumped with wild passion and played with great thrill
Hot hearts will rarely admit their own chill
Clear heads would not dare to brace from the cloud
When nary a moment's peace is allowed

Heaven will not move on its own whim
While Fates and Furies have chances slim
Dogs disobeying what nature commands
With wild winds dancing in unstable hands

Twist it and turn it any way but loose
Still we lend hands to tightening the noose
You may sit in your corner and pretend to simper
You know well as I this is the bang not the whimper

And when whispering it winds up from the deep
It would be lucky to not find us asleep
Tired from our games
Tired of our names
Dreaming now with words at war in our heads
We are the ones making our final beds

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