Our Better World

Me and Sierra, laying under the stars,

dewy grass, cool March night, almost morning.

We pass a bottle of red wine, we pass a cigarette,

and we talk about the dreams of a better world.

The stars roll on, indifferent and unseeing,

as the first of the dawn tears a slice in the night.

We hang our dreams and angels upon their light,

a dream as the world loses all tenderness and feeling.

Drunk, out of smokes, Sierra rolls over, lays her head

upon my shoulder. I kiss her head, and squeeze her close.

A perfect night, a sweet moment, as The Red Dragon comes

to cast the stars into the sea, and our better world burns.

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