There Are Still Many

Imaginary dangers aside
There are still many dead pretending their alive.
And I'm presented with another, and another, and another.
They set every appendage on fire.

I got a kiss the night they killed him.
And I walked on the overflowing water
Of my cup's rim.
I wonder what made it all so exciting.

I guess I always think why the apple fell.
God, if you would please still believe in me
Suffocating the flames of hell...
Just no longer would be a fishing tale.

I'm not a lier when I say I care.
In truth I've lost three hundred thousand hairs
Just from imagining if when away.
Are you sleeping well?

I pray you're not one of the dead,
Or the wolves
Or the drunken mirrors
Showing a face existing only in my head.