Black as the sky above, it matched the blood on the ground. Immersing myself in distortion, repelling off the emotions that surround.
You cannot wage a war when you will neither win or lose, it come down to a simple choice, Do it, Or simply refuse.
They're screaming now, everyone's dying, even the Heavens seem to be solemnly crying.
Cold as ice inside, faced with the jaws of Hell, killing one, another and again, not remembering why or how.
The war lost its purpose when you witnessed that swing. It wasn't him who didn't feel a thing. You remember his smile, carefree? Profound?
Mocked with an expression of horror as his head rolled on the ground. The body fell, so impossibly frail.
Though the mission was a success, the aftermath was damned to fail. Terror blackened the surroundings, I swear Satan's laughing.
Echoing through the chorus of screams, he is clapping. Job well done, the war is over.
Plucked off the wrong leaf of a four-leaf clover.
Watching the sky give way to light, a futile promise that all is all right.
Even Heaven lies, but it always has a reason. Watching Azulas blood spill for murder and for treason.
Beautiful though she may have been, inside her lay the heart of a snake.
She did it out of sheer malevolence, just to see your heart break.
And so it shattered, as did the blades of your Ice. Thrown at her, razored accuracy, cutting the cords of her life.
And so he fell, The Avatar died, that day. With his present, your future, collapsed and flitted away.
Whatever the reason Heaven presented, you knew it'd never be good enough.
Besides, it's nothing something you'd "rub dirt on" with a callous smile, saying "Life is Rough."
The Fire-Nation was left in ruins, inhabited now only by The Dead.
And the flickering shadow of the Angel of Death, collecting his bounty, while they bled.
The blood runs onwards, leaving wounds across the ground, stretching until eternity, they'll always be around.
Maybe it was truly meant for the best? Maybe, from the Heavens, or Hell, it was a test?
Maybe, Maybe, Maybe, there is inevitibility in death.
The blade of the weapon that stole your loves breath.
Imprinted on your memory, a treasured little picture of Nightmare.
You can always relive the moments, because you never truly left there.
Love and War, and Pride and Trust? How come victory appears so unjust?
You don't know the answers, because in those emotions, you cannot trust.
Given as handouts, at an awful price. That is Love, That is War.
I needn't say it twice...
But it still doesn't stop it from carving a wound. A fountain of tears quickly becomes a monsoon.
Watch the sky if you will, for Hell is laughing. Satan is satisfied, for you, he's stopped clapping.
The Day of Black Sun began and ended the same way.
Silent as Death, yet as lengthy as the day.
So here you stand, at the corssroads of Fate.
Love and War collided, feeling isn't so great?
There is no mercy, no humor, in Death. So says the headless corpse of your Life and Love, his last breath.
Inside, you are frigid, though you're still standing at the Gates to Hell.
Been there ever since, since the Fire-Nation fell.
Satan has stopped clapping, once again, all is well.