I wrote this on coast trip while everyone was playing prototype.
The night is like a sheet of dispair,
bringing cold and damp without thought or care.
But the brilliance of our local star,
Can still be seen near and far.
The flame burning within the people,
It rises high like a church's steeple,
Buildings fall, and faith remains,
Bodies fail, souls live on unstained.
Though soon my flesh shall be feast for worms,
I shall live on with my thoughts and words.
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