Compelled to dance towards the flame,
revel in thoughts of pain. slane by your own hand,
the moth dances with death, the answer is yes,
gonna gamble the rest,
all styles accepted this death wish, leaves no remnants,
paths may differ but all are directed to this tunnel of light,
among all this life, all under the glass all under the knife.
on a kamikaze mission
a battle Hardened scarred animal conditioned vision,
no decision he is steadfast,
the death dance his best chance to get past this enchanted spell he is entranced,
the temperature has risen, his wits about him missin driven in indecision insufficient wisdom
or is it something different was it one specific action
make him jump the limits or was it sunk within him from tha beginning -

He's driving forward blind man at the wheel no dog,
his mind his stormin forming its getting real he won't stop.
Colliding forces force this now formless flutter to utter his last word and fall with the others,
he floats off.

Theres more queuing now, he wants to know them, show them that there's
Forces there to control them, them, they, him who he was yesterday but the knowledge gained hasn't left
Him in a better place,
it's quick and painless, sick, outrageous
you can pick your stations but not the destinations
its the nature of animal.

Gotta try and find a balance, to overcome the challenges its apparent that this palace is where the damage is the bricks stained from piss and spit of the travellers he sees his friend sick with sadness,
madness grips losing his mate was the catalyst

his wings clipped and he flips into panic mode,
now knowing that he has to go,
its too late to let his actions be known,
they'll find out shortly cos soon they'll be home,
he shoulda spoken to him when he seemed low,
looking at each other from opposite sides of the peep hole,
ill see you soon bro, peaceful
as he let the lethal .303 go into his cerebral

Falling thoughts forming as they always do right before morning
Mourning the loss of his very best friend, left him to defend against the devilish red
Storming, the force deforming his normal fortress which once fought these maudlin thoughts from pouring
All in, straight into his head, he begins to defend but gives into instead

Soaring he is now soaring, his caution has worn thin forcing him to fall in, courting in the letters he sent,
to the forget him every letter was read in repent
morphing, the blood is now coursing pumping harder, each breath exhausting
for the friends that he'd never forget,
the regret was something he didn't expect

He's driving forward blind man at the wheel no dog,
his mind his stormin forming its getting real he won't stop.
Colliding forces force this now formless flutter to utter his last word and fall with the others,
he floats off.

he floats off, filled with the ills he never spoke of,
followed by his mate, they're both lost, they won't stop,
they've taken their winter coats off, so much left behind they will never know of, both lost, flying towards the light,
which burned like blow torch inside their eyes,
go north, young fella fore the chance is lost,
before we all become players

in the dance of the moth