(Day 2)
By dawn angry heavens poured
on the world painted black.
As I pulled down
the silver string and rolled
up the creamed snow curtain,
there on the borderline,
they splatter.
Golden dewdrops and tears of neon blue
fight to be one with my world.
The funeral march
still goes on.
Fiercely, sharply
cutting my flesh into
strips of fragile woods,
burnt into ashes,
slowly fading into gray,
echoing night into day.
The world painted in black
only stood witness to the grave.
-Toto
