Messiah Or Astrology...

Close your eyes, hope you won't be seen.
It's silence, not serene.
There's nothing left, that you want to believe.
A liquid, a thirst doesn't relieve.
Open wide, feed your dreams.
Fallen screams, torn at the seams.
Save yourself, for that last big sin.
Born again, with in built means to give in.
Drawing lines in blood, on the palm of your hand.
You're holding on to, maps of what you've planned.
There's nothing here, just what's left.
Patience, waiting to be bereft.
Throw yourself, into the oncoming static.
Drop ourselves, it's the death that's romantic.
Sell your soul, treasure the fake.
We've killed yourself, as part of the 'cruel to be kind' take.
Lost mind, in a world that learns nothing.
Asphyxiation in the asylum, no song to sing.
It's all you want, you know you forget.
It's a routine, outwith the set.
Open arms, only seem to surrender.
Sun rise, fender.
No one, needs, what they think to survive.
What is hope for, nothing to revive.
Pulled inside the darks, without as much as an awareness of the blind.
Ticketed, stamped and aligned.
You sleep in shores, waves form bliss.
Sunk, without as much as a kiss.
Growing wings, to lift from the sorrow-less excess.
Your frozen cuts, the chord to signal less.
Words spoken, no interest to a nation.
There's hollow echoes, might as well pray for salvation.