Wandering thru the empty spaces, listening to the wind;
Alone and lonely still, the other is not my friend;
Hollow like a drum beating tattoos of the heart;
The never-ending noises pull my mind apart;
Trees like people standing still, moaning at the sky;
Centuries not moving and they all just wish to die;
To fall and rot and finally return to the bosom of the earth;
To redeem a wasted life for anything it's worth;
Still-life ghost-towns mired in thick memories;
Haunted by musings over divergent histories;
Travelling on I cannot stop or else I'll turn to stone;
And like always I must remain on this broken road alone.