How did I end up here?
In this barren wasteland, with no signs of escape.
This desert crosses pass with Hell because at the Beginning, Middle, and End there is Nothing.
There is Nothing left here, just like there is Nothing left of me.
And I sit on the hot sand,
With deadly Scorpions running up my bare legs.
But I do not care at all.
Because what is a Scorpion, but just another creature of God?
The Sky is laughing at me, for it sends out not a single cloud.
And the Sun is melting my flesh from my weakened bones.
And the only thing to cool this tormented mind...
The warm tears coming from the windows of my face
And I dig into the burning sand with my aching fingers,
Trying to scratch away the ugly surface of this desert.
But the blood trickling from my nails does Nothing against the sand.
And I see the Vultures spying on me from above.
The Devil's little angels, sent to feed on my rotting carcass.
And sent to make me and my life completely nonexistent to the Earth.
I wonder if anyone will notice.
I am a desert.
A barren wasteland, with no hope of escaping from it.
As cruel as the Vultures that prowl the Gloomy Sky at dusk.
I am Nothing.
