talkistania

Dying of the Light

Do not go gentle into that good night
Don’t go quietly, put up a fight
Rage, rage against the dying of the light
Rage, rage, rage
Put up a fight
Fight, fight, fight
Against the dying of the light

Can’t differentiate
Between what’s wrong and right
Haunting empty streets
In the middle of the night
With nothing on my feet
One day I see the light
At the end of the tunnel
A funnel of light
Pouring in, pouring out
Of the sky so dark, so full of might
The rain, reflecting my pain
Pours down
Down, down, down
Infecting my brain
When I’m down and out
It pours down, down, down
From a sky so dark
And a night so light
And yet so heavy
With unexpressed brevity

Old age should burn and rave at close of day
Instead the young riot to save face
Create a scene of disgrace
Burn shops, burn cars, pull out all stops
Till they’re stopped by cops
And music like the screeching of cars
Appropriately metal
Echoes and reverberates
In the heads of those who lack the mettle or might
Rage, rage against the dying of the light

Colors of the sun
Colors of the rain
Colors of the moon
Colors of my pain
Black and grey
Colors of the day
Colors of the night
Colors of my plight
Dying of the light

When my brain is shutting down
I can’t look in and I can’t look out
I can’t look up, my head’s bowed down
All the shame and the blame that I take on me
For my pedigree, my incompetence
I will not escape to a world of pretense
From the war waging in my head
Reflected on my face
Picture of disgrace
It’s infected my brain
Driving me insane

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Unable to please
Yet I’m crawling on my knees
On my knees I pray
With fierce tears I pray
My head, so heavy
Forehead on the ground
Hard as truth I found
I am yet unready
In solitude I cried
Just as hard I tried
Everytime I lie
Fire fills the sky
Colors of the day
Light and shade
Burst forth in tirade
Sick of this charade
Rain, rain, rain
Wash away my pain
Colors of disgrace
Waging war on my face
Hard to tell what’s right
Pick which battles to fight

Colors of the sun
Colors of the rain
Colors of the moon
Colors of my pain
Black and grey
Colors of the day
Colors of the night
Colors of my plight
Dying of the light

Rage, rage, rage
Another war is waged
War against the day
Goes on into the night
Another day was saved
Everytime time I caved

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

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This entry was published on April 20, 2008 at 01:37 and is filed under From Bad to Verse. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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