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As the day dies  taking the beauties of nature in its rapid descent  

it births the night. The so called end.

When god lies his guilt free head down upon the soft bed of flowers

the day bought into bloom

the shadows of the suns absence breed the evil vices now free to roam sin city.

So now man lights the skies up with the illuminative glow of addiction,

the strong pull of the unknown, now living and real.

All problems die by the lights side so a weightless mind can float through the neon signs,

the place where regrets are delayed until the sun rises.

You let the shadows take you, the feeling of freedom throbs inside,

but silently, as to not wake up the sleeping good.