The Black Parade.

The damned that walk through the empty abyss
Shadowed by a curtain of descending snow
A drowning despair that flooded each of their lives
And branded them with black bags that rest upon their eyes
I saw them as they marched past me
And on each of them were clothes, painted in black
And masks of human expressions worn over their faces
I reached my hand out to them, and as they marched by
One took my grip, and led me beyond the darkness
His name I did not know
His face, I’ve not seen before
And his voice was quiet, like a whisper
But like thunder to my ears
Hand in hand we marched on with the rest
In a parade of shadows, walking to no place special
Hand in hand, as the snow enveloped our tracks
As we marched onward
And left nothing behind
But a memory
But a moment
But a feeling
Hand in hand.