Mar. 25, 2003 - 7:20 p.m.
Lost in this wilderness
We survive on hope
Its origin is the faint glow in the distance, cloaked
We are strangers
In the unfathomable light
Prefering to slink through the days and worship at night
Blood calls to blood
A kindred spirit beckons
Whatever our sins, we're trapped in this pit as aliens
Ceaselessly tears fall
And souls ache
Until we connect one to another, forge a bond that cannot break
To achieve some peace
And return to family
We travel endlessly: injured, silent, hated, solitary
This world is hell
This life a tomb
And as we travel on, our one goal never changes: home.
