Nothing happens on a calm day like today.//Nothing can happen, when the day is just dead.//What’s the impulse to be felt, if today’s end has started again?
It’s so quiet out here, inside today’s dream.//So quiet, indeed, I hear my thoughts scream.
And I can hear myself going insane.//Paralyzed in a way I’ve never felt.//There’s just too much time to spend with myself.//On a calm day like today.
For inside there’s a spiral full of feelings and answers.//Though the questions to ask are a different matter.//Because they just don’t exist, and if they do, I don’t have’em.
And that’s why nothing can happen on a day like today.//On a calm day full of pity and dread.
Even clouds and the sun have felt the depression of today.//The sorrow and heaviness that lingers in the air.//So they disappeared behind a sea of mist, waiting for a new day.//And all that’s left is fog and despair.
Yet the distance yonder is sprinkled with song.//Whistles and twitters and croaks all adorn.//A calm and dreadful day with no love.//A day that perpetually ends and gives nothing more.
The orchestra defies the sky’s petulance, blasting from all corners of The Dome.//And with sounds unimaginable, creatures fill the sky’s deathly void.
Then powerful winds make the plants cringe, and though I fear it, the orchestra doesn’t flinch.//Or waiver.//Or give into the rotten stench.//Of a day like today.
But they’re the only ones that survive a calm day like today.//A day full of fog and the promise of rain.
Then a reflection of a beast behind and in front and within me appears in a single stroke.//Crying for help inside a mirror I’ve never known.//It stares back at me, unflinching, and for dear life it begs.//Yet I’m helpless in my paralysis and I know we’ll never see each other again.//So I apologize with my eyes and pray for the rain.//To flood this place while we keep at bay.//But in the time it takes me to blink, the reflection’s gone.//The moment has passed.//The beast is no more.
And that’s all that happens on a calm day like today.//On a day full of fear and loss and songs of dismay.
Nothing else happens sitting here, mourning the day’s perpetual end.//Nothing happens because the mind has bent.//It has become warped by the promise of pain.//Of a pain ushered by today’s disdain.