Tales of bridges burnt

Come a thousand deaths
Or a million jests
A reaper’s scythe
Or death’s own blight

Till the bright day lasts
Or in night’s deadly cast
To the tip of the clouds
Or the depths of ocean’s downs

In a volcanoes fiery breath
Or the Arctic’s chilly breath
In a zone where the sun doesn’t set
Or the home where lifes’ darkest

In sickness and in death
In joy and in eternal wealth
In hope and disdainly despair
Within you being the air
And laying my heart out to bare

Wishing my heart again you’d steal,
Hoping all my apologies endear to you
Helping all those old wounds to heal
So that we can get back the love we knew