NIne

At the corner of 9 and
yet not the afternoon'
people being loud and
people being a boon
realize the wrong and fire
of them burns just a conflagartion
into the hearts and minds of them
and then
back again.

9, at the stroke of nine
you are dead again and again
and its my reprise that I keep on
going back in time over and over
again. To when you were alive and
so you were my hope
and so you were my hope but
we will never ever meet again.

Cause you are gone because you trust their
dissenting opinions too much.
At the corner of 9, you are gone and never
coming back...

9, at the  9,
at the stroke of the nine~ the death
covers me in agony and I must go on
as the 9, 9~! Beckons me as this is my
reprise into the indigo-
9, 9, 9!

9! 9!9!
At the stroke of nine-the death awakens me.
Reprise all in time, how many 9s have I traveled
but by this 9. I must go on.

9, 9, 9, the indigo calls
and slowly I am vaporizing and moving all on
into the worlds and moons all sum of nines
as your eyes that one time and how I drunk to
death.

But there is nothing of my soul damn in that body to
keep me here so damn I left.

To another world of the 9.
Where death had dawned its doom.
For a lover and their loved.
And there the indigo died.
9, I rode, 9, I rode.

9-the heart of mine shall not erode.