Select Page
the sands of time are running out
and I... 
don't wish to see you
because I can't tell
Which way's hell
Going with, or against you

which way the sands flow
I don't know
If time is running out
or dead still
trapped like you and I
in a sea of
love and pain
carried in by old wounds

every caress grinding grit
into our damaged souls
drowning in sufficating sands

what will it be?
the end of you?
or me?

is this the end of