was that a nightingale?
no. the sky is turning gray.
so i go, departing from the bed,
and walk out into the world.

around me there is a new wonder,
baptized afresh in morning light,
behold! a marvel, life.
the sun rises slowly, lifting my eyes
up, up, up! to the light.

and every new hour forced me to choose
between life and death, such is
freedom's shackles, binding me.
for me to live, i consume,
a vampire of the light.

and the clock strikes noon,
the twelve pounding in my ears
i must hurry, the hours
evaporate now - vapors
of my freedom to choose.

what has this day emerged into?
is this story my own?
for when the sun beats down in agony,
the same questions will remain:
who are we? why are we here?

and light slowly fades,
along with all the answers.
so, we sit alone in the dark,
still searching, reaching,
grasping forward, finding our way.

but what do we reach in the end?
are we even there? how do we know?
this is no left, no right, no choice to make.
the sky is dark tonight, and nothing
penetrates this prison called my heart.

the clock strikes twelve again,
and in this twilight of the world,
there is no beauty.
no truth.