Until The Storm Comes

One takes an even path
No give or gain
Into a future to which submission yields pain
To be a fatalist
Absorbing every rich
Brought forward by the wind
Yet nothing more

Forces moving pull towards and push away
A driftwood in the current
Bliss or hurt
A victim to the day
One crosses over

The dead hold on to no such pieces
Control is a facade
Fast crumbling in the face of disease
A mind's as boundless
As days before its vessel expires

Heart pumps fire amplified
Rips self structure from inside

High upon a mountain
Or a prison cеll
Or mansion
All is transient
Passenger or steering wheel in hand
Thе night still falls
The ride still ends as it ends

How high days were numbered
Makes no difference
Once the memories all have ceased to be
Strife or acquisition have no meaning
Once the burden is set free

Blood cracks being's corridors
Tears self structure from within

Contrary uneven path
To give it all and reap its gain's own bounty
Pragmatic way of life
An activist controls its own domain
Unreliant on wind
Unmoved by waves
Until the storm comes
Tear at its core life force

(Solo: Phelps)

Trivial
All paths lead to common stasis ends
Damned to do or don't
Choice in vain may play with risk or hide in comfort
Frugality or excess disappear

Erased
Be life short or long
Nothing is saved
Memories cease to be
Whether a passenger or driver
Life must end
NO meaning once the burden is set free
One crosses over
The dead hold on to no such piece

One crosses over
The dead hold on to no such piece