Taste of Our Flames
KEITH TENNISWOOD, N WRITER UNKNOWN
Those who are left at the end
Would have won with desire
The kind that destroys as it grows
As you walk in the fire
Those who last right to the end
Would have got there by lust
The kind that consumes, never slows
As you crawl in the dust
To love with a light in your eyes
Is to feel in the dark
Directions are harder to take
Every time that we ask
Love with a white piercing beam
Is to move from the black
Direction that renders us weak
Every time we attack
We who are left at the death
Will be under a spell
One that cost victims their minds
With a brief glimpse of hell
We who were right all along
Will then read out your names
Those who stole secrets will pay
With a taste of our flames