My loneliness is a sad city, I roam it's streets, I count it's pavements. And when night falls, angry horses come running through it, startled by lightning.
My loneliness is a land, filled with blooming trees, But when the fruits ripen, they fall and decay, For there is no-one to gather them, no-one to care.
My loneliness is a longing, Crying out for something beyond the senses, And outside the skin.