Until the Storm Comes

One takes an even path
 No give or gain
 Into a future to which submission yields pain
 To be a fatalist
 Absorbing every rich
 Brought forward by the wind
 Yet nothing more
 Forces moving pull towards and push away
 A driftwood in the current
 Bliss or hurt
 A victim to the day
 One crosses over
 The dead hold on to no such pieces
 Control is a facade
 Fast crumbling in the face of disease
 A mind's as boundless
 As days before its vessel expires
 Heart pumps fire amplified
 Rips self structure from inside
 High upon a mountain
 Or a prison cеll
 Or mansion
 All is transient
 Passenger or steering wheel in hand
 Thе night still falls
 The ride still ends as it ends
 How high days were numbered
 Makes no difference
 Once the memories all have ceased to be
 Strife or acquisition have no meaning
 Once the burden is set free
 Blood cracks being's corridors
 Tears self structure from within
 Contrary uneven path
 To give it all and reap its gain's own bounty
 Pragmatic way of life
 An activist controls its own domain
 Unreliant on wind
 Unmoved by waves
 Until the storm comes
 Tear at its core life force
 (Solo: Phelps)
 Trivial
 All paths lead to common stasis ends
 Damned to do or don't
 Choice in vain may play with risk or hide in comfort
 Frugality or excess disappear
 Erased
 Be life short or long
 Nothing is saved
 Memories cease to be
 Whether a passenger or driver
 Life must end
 NO meaning once the burden is set free
 One crosses over
 The dead hold on to no such piece
 One crosses over
 The dead hold on to no such piece