Until the Sun Turns Black- Adam Arlt


Rocks cascade beneeth giant boulders

Ash flows through air when it once was a summer breeze

Bullets act as honeysuckle bushes, as you slowly become colder

We all once screamed to be free


As guitars gently whimper and crowds gently fall

There are many bound to walk the streets

The grounds will shake, we all will call

Where little children used to meet


There once was, upon a time

Where you could by a razor

But now commanstance is crime

We still are looking for a saviour


Call the horsemen with their temper

No more men, or times for memory

We will go out only as but a whimper

For my friend to become my enemy



Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741