Dead Hours

Like the air before the sun

I count dead hours off my days

I inherit my destruction

From the sciences of man

You‘ll pay your dues

In future tomes

By teaching dead ones how to live

And preaching the abyss of time

you’ll take the latter route to hell

It‘s written in the hiding stars

The ones you seldom chose to seek

And when at night their wisdom speaks

An eerie breeze prevails

Every notary and servant dreams of sultan sweets

they’ll never have

and never be

the wish they had

it’s never worth the wish