Ten Thousand Hundred Times - Christian Death

What monstrous chaos

You were a youngster who succumbed

To the ravages of old age

And I am assailed by the ellipse

As spoken in due season

Children reserve your paron

A blessing, before the carcasses of rot

Beautiful little child open your eyes

Pull the angel’s face close to your mouth

Cannot your wings sense a remote flight

Walls of dust in an illusion of voice

There exists infinity

As bequeathed to you

For the thousandth time

Is only an instant

And you are everything that ever lived