Crimson

It’s as if I’ve fallen with the fall
Like leaves from trees, standing short and tall
My lungs are frozen from the winter air
A stale cold and respiratory flare
Crimson scatters near the roots of the last soldier from the summer
It’s as if the battle happened here and the bodies were buried under
A tectonic drift and polar shift would ensure our camouflage
It would be as if we never happened, and this place was a mirage
We constantly collide with the troposphere
We cut straight through like Roman spear
Displacing oxygen like a paid assassin
Promised to forget because it never happened
It’s as if I’ve fallen with the fall
Like leaves from trees, standing short and tall
Crimson scatters near the roots of the last soldier from the summer
It’s as if the battle happened here and the bodies were buried under
Stimulating consequences rest on my conscience
This addiction to the things we do is neither conventional or acknowledged
An echo of existence
Subsist in our commencement
Limitations have escaped us
Contrary to accepted thesis
A tectonic drift and polar shift would ensure our camouflage
It would be as if we never happened, and this place was a mirage
We constantly collide with the troposphere
We cut straight through like a Roman spear
Displacing oxygen like a paid assassin
Promised to forget because it never happened
Crimson scatters near the roots of the last soldier from the summer
It’s as if the battle happened here and the bodies were buried under
An echo of existence
Subsist in our commencement
Limitations have escaped us
Contrary to accepted thesis
An echo of existence
Limitations have escaped us
An echo of existence