You are the one who created the rivers with your tears. Sining your song of sorrow for all these years.
For something you can't find that is ever so dear. Even though it is so near.
With shattered wings you try to fly. Only to tell yourself such a lie. As a bloody tear falls from ones eye. You wish it were possible to die.
A slave to ones instincts and mind. Caged by depression, dread, and fear for all of time. But still, always in search of conscoious to find......
My very own existence that has become so blind.....
