Stabs of painted light stand still
Gazing shadows walk faster till
The sound of silence lends a part
The very nature of this art
A glimmer of hope yet all consumed
The very one is chosen still
To bring a message painted black
The ears that fall upon won't last
But somewhere in the smoke filled crowd
An open mind will soon reveal
The meaning to the broken tale
A fragmented line no longer stale
A half drunk soul will leave tonight
With a sense of purpose, that all is right
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