Across the way is a house - a
small house, by the looks,
but a place of love and loss.
Born and buried in the backyard
soil - under a rosebush - gone
and faded again like withered
flowers of the night.
This is a place where we can run
hand in hand forever,
deeper into the dark, eternal black.
Such a sad home, such lonely rooms,
barren and layered in dust.
Oh, to be alone in a place like this,
where the sun rays never touch.
And though we die tonight,
together will we call -
for now and for always,
bitterly we fall.