Seen thru the eye of the blind. Blinded by the bright of the light. The light of the dollar sign. Which hold his might around midnight. Where the blind try to rewrite the apartheid of the modern world.

All these words in my head, but i can't put anything on paper. All these story's i want to tell, but nothing is coming out.

All these voices chewing at my brains, screaming in my ears. Braiding all these story's, but hiding them form others so they can be lost in the ever growing pile of lost dreams and fables.

To be sure of the unsure.
You need to be clear of the unclear.
To be Clear of the unclear you need to see through the thick mist of Question.