Dead Poetic

Do we have the time to lay the line between true life, and you in mine.
I want to reel it back before the day when simplicity was washed away.
Like modern morbid prophecies fulfilled.
Like biting on these bitter tasting pills.
And we're just heroes, And we're just heroes.
For the day.
There's a silent urge to leave this cloud when all I want is to hear the sound,
Of your voice devoid of the constant noise, the only sound to fill this void.
And do you want this. And do you still need this.