The Delicate Sound Of An Explosion

i've got my back against the wall. 
i've got my feet planted firmly in this... 
i break the surface to breath again for the first time. chill november air burns my nostrils. 
(a fleeting moment - soon stolen). 
and i can never look at this the same again... 
(there are two types of people in thisworld...
the dead, and the dying.)