Tuesday, 24 January 2012


Photoshopped by compiling several images of my photography.

A flame devours me with all its might
In the cold darkness, the angels took flight
So cool, so dark; a chill ran down my spine
A story where Satan eludes the God’s sight.

It’s a story of that very night.

Frail were the angels, who remained on that land,
With wings down and their mourning face;
They wept and cried so much, so on
That the dark wind howled in that silent night.

It’s a story of that very night.

With all the blood spilled on the ground
And heads and limbs twisted around
So foul the stench of blood and guts,
It was a rule of the weak over might.

It’s a story of that very night.

Don’t know how scrapes of paper,
Possessed the power to buy a man.
A bargain we made to slay ourselves,
A barter for doom made with delight.

It’s a story of that very night.

Women cried, Children died,
Yet the angels could do nothing;
With their wings burning, they lay there,
Such was that horrible sight.

It’s a story of that very night.

God cried with a heavy heart
He could do nothing but see;
For WE welcomed this fate on ourselves,
With a heart full of vengeance and spite.

It’s a story of that very night.

“A day will come”, spoke a Stranger. “When this will end.
“Though some angels’ wings are burning now
“And the others have flown away
“Yet there remains a hope, in darkness lies a ray of light.

“It’s the story of every single night.

“With night and darkness all over,
“We cried once again together
“The night has bring us all together
“And this union is mightier than the Might.

“It’s the same story every single night.

“It’s time we stand for what is wrong
“We stand together against the dark
“With a passion to overcome the wrong within
“Its time we stand for fair and right."

Amidst the cries, His words were lost
In the howling wind, that stranger stood
With a torch, a flame, to show us the way
Was He the God, or just a Sprite?

It’s a story of that very night.

Some threw stones at Him,
Some fired at Him, the filthy words;
With a drop of tear in His eyes,
He turned back, leaving us in fright.

It’s a story of that very night.

The wind stopped howling;
A voice boomed across the horizon.
A voice with a power to silence the cries;
The voice of the Stranger, but no one in sight.

The voice sang that very night:

“An eternal passion burning inside,
“A distant dream kept aside.
“The world won’t see the world as I see
It’s a darker day and a brighter night.

It is the story of that very night.

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