Can Mankind get any worse?
Going on and on
    In inventing the science
of the beauty in sadness
 And tears glitter down
        And gray clouds drift away
      Hanging on to the beauty of the fatal state
 What is left

               

Lifting up.
    You got yourself some wings.
    You got yourself a way
    Of restoring yourself
          To you.
      You feel again
      You see again
          It's open.
 You're shining bright.