Coldplay
~
Once upon a lie, in the land of grand delusion, our story ended the same way it began.
How easy is it to break eternity?
Stories are lies we tell our children so they can, in sleep, embrace the night.
Stories are lies we tell ourselves to artfully conceal the leaks of sinful pain.
Stories are lies we make up and believe because the world is too ugly to be true.
Stories are lies we hide behind to avoid witnessing the dark death of light.
Stories are lies we break beneath, beneath that broken grin.
Stories are lies we breathe in and through, as they steal heart, soul and hue.
Stories are lies we write, sing and paint, while they erase every heartstring and bond, and drown both voice and color in the damned abyss of a tainted imagination.
Stories bleed so beautifully. They try for so long to keep up the act, that game of pretend we call fiction. Yet all they do is breed illusion atop illusion. They try to make you believe in a false reality they cannot really sustain. Words are just words, aren't they? And stories are just stories, and "what's past is prologue."
So consider this anything but a story. Call it an exposition, clarity, anything really. The label doesn't matter. Only the truth matters. So here goes.
Tonight, we drink to celebrate the murder of love. Tonight, we lose ourselves in foul smoke to re-experience memories of abandonment without having their anxious background music striking at our nerves. Tonight is intoxicated with despair. Tonight, all rhythm and rhyme are lost. Tonight, the mind wanders away and never returns. Tonight, the soul simulates the last landing that destroyed its heart and swears itself into a vow of eternal hatred for the fall. Tonight, the past comes out as flowing vomit cursed with the sweet taste of death, the death of Magic.
So rewrite the fleeting moment
That lost you in its lines
And decompose the melody
Which bleeds beneath your sighs.
Blessed be the painting
Of dark and ancient signs
And blessed be the heart
That lied to all its lies.
Once upon a truth, I told love that love was you. It answered back with an empty echo, a toast for the night of burial, a perfect ending for a perfect lie. You see I've always loved your voice, even when it said that our stars were dead.
Once upon the end, you found the title for our story,
I don't believe in you anymore.
~
"This is the hardest story, that I've ever told. No hope or love or glory. Happy ending's gone forevermore."
Mika
Mika