Beneath the weight of infinite skies,

her eyes, two wells of drowning sighs.

A tear, like a wounded star, descends,

tracing the map where sorrow bends,

and love, unspoken, forever ends.

she was 12,
of course no one believed her.
she was 12,
of course she was blamed.
she was 12,
of course she thinks its her fault.
she was 12,
of course they laughed at her when she opened up about it.
she was 12,
of course she thought it was love.
she was 12,
of course it was the clothes.
she was 12,
of course she couldn't press charges.
she was 12,
of course it still haunts her.
she was 12,
of course she's disgusted by her self.
she was 12,
of course she wasn't taken seriously.
she was 12.

solitude is there
there are pieces of broken pain
are shining
walls are transparent
floors are transparent
the roofs are transparent
space also is transparent, transparent, transparent.
i can see all
invisible to you alone
there is solitude
The Way You Go
not lonely.

-facing Fatherland

The road has lost us,

we have left it, over there --


it's looking for us.