Blahsphemy

There is no gain without pain  echoed the wall of fame. Every little grain  plays its own game.  For we are the losers who invented pain.   

The fire in your eyes are history Now all that remains is our story A story time has swept away forever Only to reappear at odd moments For skullduggery is an art perfected Over time, you prophesied  Something we tried,  Quite unsuccessfully  You are you and I am me We are someone else's for now Till we meet again This is goodbye