Don't ask that your days be filled with sun-
And don't ask that they be filled with joy.
Because we are all made of bones-
And bones can be Brocken

Don't ask to walk on the edges of heaven-
And don't ask to touch the stain glass ceiling of heaven
Because your made of bones.
And bones decay-

Who could forget Lucifer-
Fallen from grace.
But still alive.
For he wasn't made of bones

It's the slow torture-
Searing and burning your soul.
Don't ask to survive all storms-
Because you will sink with so many ships

Don't ask to walk on sunlight-
Or sleep on stars.
For if you fall- you'll land in the sea
Or at the gates of hell

Volcanoes spew lava in the gray sea.
And make islands.
Forming life-
But life ends.