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Meteorites

de Voices From The Fuselage

The science, the left hand - the cynic of my soul
A safe grip, a smooth path - the ground on which, I roam
The right hand, a splendour - am I a man of God?
Segregated from the hopeless common thought
We venture through nature, oblivion and awe
Drowning in the fear that we can't escape this shore
If we can't live together then we will die alone
Separated from our only form of hope

I wake unscathed and breathing. My whereabouts unknown

You bore such misery. Then you gave it all to me. What is your next bequest?

Your vision's off, your misled delusions. (why am I not surprised)
And soon you'll see we're not the enemy

Lavish in these words you may not understand
Who could've predicted that this would be our bitter end
Miracle occurred - the chance is sickly thin
Between the bruises and contusions that rest on our skin
We cleared the ocean deep, thrown downward from the sky
But the sensation of a pull encourages the 'why?'
The walls are ripped apart, the fumes have met the flames
And the resistance of the flooding wind keeps them at bay
I hear caucophany a clamour of a fear
A fear that wracks somebody's every nerve beyond a tear
The turbulence is fierce, as it exacerbates
And I begin to witness everything about my fate
As all my senses fade, despite my own protest
The tunnel vision in the corner of my eye defects
My fingertips are numb. I cannot hear the blight
And with this atrophy is blinding absence of light

Have I lost you in a world of danger? Have you forgotten me?
Am I a stranger in a strange land calling for a reason?
Longing, forgiven - taking my last stand

Your vision's off, your misled delusions. (why am I not surprised)
And soon you'll see we're not the enemy

Break my fall, or risk it all
I can see your ulterior motives
Breaking down the walls
I can see the goodness feed you
As the darkness envelops me
I have no way of changing this trajectory

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