We are finite, bound to break on the horizon

Tumbling through fields of clouds,

Storms and rainbows.

Winked in cutting, burnt-yellow

Silence like a silver knife 

Sweeping across barren acres 

Of sawdust land.

Bleed, explode and burn

Around the 'Way in 

Dreams spun of cobwebs

And ashen whispers

Faded at the edge of the world.