I don't know whose mistake.
The truth and light, they say, show you the way -
The pallor I can't take.
The final plan, I'm told, will take my eyes,
The purples all away.
What plan is that for which all voices die?
What do they never say?
I will not dare to fly so high
I will not dare to cling to lust
Memories so frail and light
I must not venture there
I do not care to try to die
I cannot spare the time to fuss
Darknesses all touch on white
I feel I'm going there
I am not fit to live on high
I do not have the nerve to try
And darknesses all touch on white,
And I fear I'm going there.
