The places in-between, dark corners and white beams
It's a given that those greys aren't always what they seem
I could talk of it for hours, if you know what I mean
Perhaps, to partake of a chance, a fabricated dream
I'll simulate my suicide, for the pleasure of the scene.
Amor Vincit Omnia, or so the Latin says,
I gift you with an ampersand, a comma and a grave
The modern end, the final twist, the past has passed and all forthwith
We put up our arms in weariness and pray for the deceased,
Then grease the wheels of progress; just for a little peace.