(not) made (so) undead (that) by (our) pop (music) culture (sucks)

Ballad of The Rider – Part I

He rode on through the pale moonlight,
Accompanied by his horse
His boy battered and his heart torn,
This night, it cannot last long.

He rode amongst the men, his friends,
Or so did he them call,
He rode slower than the rest of them,
He had a destiny, he said.
His mind raced faster than the rest of them,
This night is cold for me, only now

He was the rider of the dark,
The knowing man who knew no light,
“It soon shall touch upon my brow,
And then those fools, they will surmise.
Ride into the brightened dawn,
I shall be the one to be furthest of all.”

Sand in his eyes, a shiver in his spine.
The rider knew no peace.
His safety torn, one false gleam
Of hope had he but seen.

And his heart had grown so bitter now,
That he cast it all away-
No friends are these fools of mine,
This light that I shall face shall be new.

He threw away all his miseries,
A new world of light was awaiting him,
The illumination of this sun,
It bathed him a holy stream.
And he regretted the night that he now so missed,
And the world of darkness he had lived in,
The world that was once a dream,
Now seen for its reality.

The sun’s brutal rays on him,
The rider made his way,
His mind ever so dizzy now,
His fear of darkness cost his freedom.

The world of light was terrifying,
And the shadows of the past
Kept him awake in his sleep,
Would it have been a better future?

The rider crawled unto the sand,
His horse had died miles ago,
He surely had come close to his dream,
But was it really worth all this?

The darkness, the cold was so charming,
The rider felt the sandstorm coming,
And he lamented on what he had now become
And his dreams now thrown further,
The darkness gone farther,
And the shadows more sinister.

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