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Careful With That Axe, Pichu!
October 6th, 2006, 1:23 PM
Black Hole Sun

Had been ages, few had wondered
If the sun was now so old
Satellites were counting hundred;
The fat star was growing cold.

The truth was known, and either way
Silence struck, and meteors fled
The wasted star was not to stay,
And moody nights then stood ahead.

Would so night be the epitaph,
Of a moth-eaten black hole sun
Left me stunned, and with a laugh
Nothing more shall I become.

But deep beneath the third blue rock,
Wide and long, the feelings curved
Where once time was caught in clock,
From where we were once observed

The words had spread, from faraway:
In space the aged would nothing say?
And so the little listened close;
Their strongest light would fade away.

And night would be the epitaph
Of a moth-eaten black hole sun
Left me stunned and with a laugh,
Nothing more shall I become.

The sky was pale, the sea in blues
A sun was ready to explode.
But she ran, she heard the news;
Soon that light would blind no road.
Willowing the metal breeze,
Clouded faces in the street
Soon the leaves and petals freeze
And warmth becomes an empty sheet.

It was too late, the time before
And our friend did leave the sky.
Ultraviolet no more,
Not a glare, a distant cry.

And will gloom carve my epitaph
Like a moth-eaten, black hole sun
I leave you shallow, not a laugh
Nothing more shall we become.

In the end, a long goodbye,
By mellow voices and guitars
If you lose the sun, and then you cry
Your teary eyes won’t find the stars.

oni flygon
October 6th, 2006, 9:46 PM
NIce descriptions and very straightforward, especially with transitions. Metaphors and they bring a drive to the visuals of an apocalyptic world. Nice job, as always!