I have no dreams just a conscious mind
And I am lost within the dreaded gears of war
A child noticed only by the deaf and blind
An aged soul shadowed and full of gore
The man child prayed for a day of grace
Hope for the phrase did not turn the page
Another small bead of faith drips from the face
And sorrow drowned too late turns to rage
A decade of tears spent in the twilight of haze
I pack some hope in the pipe and ignite
Ready and willing to shake off the blue daze
I hold steady for I am the painful blight
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