The bleeding sun

Prelude to the storm

The bleeding sun
I wake up soaked to the skin
Walking alone down the path of the damned
A fine breeze stops me in the middle of this lonesome land
Then I see you
Dressed in white, as the angels I used to dream as a child
Although now I'm old, lost and tired
I try to reach out, but all I can see is you,
dancing with the red storm.
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