If the sky's the limit, then what do you call the stars?
Forever is made of numbers.
Standing on a pedestal of faults.
A darkened forgiveness across everlasting seas.
A heated glacier of existence.
Fixing mistakes with a broken key.

The eclipse of the moon.
A dozen monsoons.
A thousand balloons in a grown up world.
Faded memories, sky’s unknown.
A mirror of dust between shattered bones.

A stolen wave distilled beyond.
Dollars, and contamination, every nuclear bomb.
A swing of pure loathe.
An echo of drowning growth.
Trapped in a lethal prison.
The walls are only hidden.

Some infinities are smaller than others.
Always saying goodbyes.
People die.
Watch the one who suffers.

Teaching children our bad blood of innocence.
The roots of tasteless defense.
Black roses, an unknown apocalypse.
Bronze torn apart, frozen lips.
Hear the bells of unwanted diligence.

A poison of genocide paradise.
A sacrifice of paradox parasites.
The world isn’t just ours.
If the sky's the limit, then what do you call the stars?