Tomorrow we sinned. Trespassed the thick white borders of innocence
Stained the baby blue skies to ugly red with sour signs of abhorrence
In this strange and taut situation that was given by our cast
We're still having our senses trapped in now, frozen in present
Not a minuscule moment would come over, not a single flash
Yet a vision of our dreams mouldering like the night black ash

Clangorous drifts braying our delicate, fragile selves
Leaving not a remote hint, not revealing any quarrels
Standing in the present with acute and ponderous questions
Freezing in this silence with multitudinous seclusions
Bitter crinkles shriveling and defacing our souls
As our bodies slowly necrotize in these dismal woes

The reason we're writhing - is our own mortal expiation
For our future guilts - now we'd pass by without recognition
The reason we're suffering - is our own lethal penance in advance
A privilege for having our minds cankered and unintensed
Just before we could awake to the dilapidation we fetch
Yesterday we acquited. Now we'll just have to turn dry, sterile and dead