if we fall, we fall from the top of the mountain
with snow in our mouths and with eyes blinded by the white
dreams floating around us like night butterflies
feeding on the glory, drinking from the cold hands of splendour
if we fall, we fall from the golden thrones
sinful artists, children of the imploding star
shaping the fate with eager fingers
tangled in the rays of the black sun
born to crumble under the weight of our own curse
perfect failures, emperors of the shattered ruins
which we created on a beautiful whim