Us

In the hour of endless need, where two souls finally meet.

Would there be dust would there be rain, an endless space in need of pain.

When they collide, will they even know, or simply brush their shoulders so.

In the hour of endless need, there is a rush, but, for to bleed.

Would there be dusk or will it be dawn, the ruby skies will hide the morn.

In the hour on endless need, tears are rare, hard to breathe.

There will be no light nor rain nor dust, just an empty space,

that is but us.