Dead Fish

Grey lining in the spotless golden sky
As the dead walk on through the life unexplored,
Night is just a hiding path,
For the reasons of senses to die.
I may not feel, I may not cry,
but still the Dead Fish do fly.

Lesser known fear, of a burning shadow,
With anguish and despair do the dead men sigh,
Days full of secret, spilling,
As they stand to loose their charm,
I am just a human, and so I cry
but still the Dead Fish do fly.

I hear the one in my head sing in joy,
For the dead only make songs for the broken toy,
Amber light does flood the night,
As they mend the lives that pass by,
I was a child once, when I used to cry
but still the Dead Fish do fly.