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Through my cold nights I will carry this shovel with me, to break through frozen ground... to break through blackness. Trenching everything I have lost! One pile of dreams moved left vacant and undressed. A spade instead of a sickle... all the hearses I see are limos and passengers are stars to their mourning fans. Digging up dead leaves. The fall is what makes them beautiful, so beautiful I can see dead leaves filling up this soul of decomposition as I lay down on this broken dirt! Shoveling above me slowly throwing down upon me, breaking ground just once more. A pardoning glimpse of a silver spade I saw the diggers face commence my final grace! Through my cold nights I will carry this shovel with me, to break through frozen ground... to break through blackness. Entrenching everything I have lost!
Show some heart please!
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