I know that everything beneath the moon
Grows old within the mortal man’s world, blue
The imperialistic time turns too;
The brightest days still end in death’s might
The lady of prosody grants me light
Though, not without a fight of reason still
While idle sounds grow silent plight of thrill
The praise of her swiftness is a sweet sight
I know inspiration like the cold breath
Can cross you as quick as it can break you
Slips a Molotov in your drink, shade of blue
An explosion of flames, she still brings death
This list will damn me to eternal chess
Don’t crown your queen before your blade is blessed.

(From: I know that all beneath the moon decays)