riding the shadowless night
in search of his darkest day
more or less there's Hell to pay
and this is the way of The Wanderer

rocky is the path of mossless stones
and where it leads is less than known
nevertheless 'tis where he roams
and this is the way of The Wanderer

much pity there should not be
as he has visited much pain upon others
passing like a wraith through their friendly hearts
leaving nothing real or true in his wake

nothing could be so bold as a lost soul
unafraid of what is unknown
afoot the rocky path of mossless stones
all alone

and this is the way of i
i am The Wanderer

I'm lost again.
Followed by that ghoul they call the soul,
I'm haunted by its dreams and nightmares,
and daunted by its solemn silence.
where is my reliance ?,
soon dawns the time for giving up the ghost.

Oh the evergoing cognitive dissonance of wanting to die but also wanting to live out your dreams.
if only this heaven they speak of was within walking distance,
i'm dying to go for a day or two.

Ahh la vie, ahh la vie,
why do you do this to me ?
i wanted to be free not lost in thee.
C'est la vie,
c'est la vie is all i say to me.

Oh sweet poetry syndrome,
such sweet sickness that you are,
but such weak dreamer tendencies these are.

Forever fluctuating, forever fluctuating...

in time i realize that there is no end to this abysmal void, so if i continue i will only continue into a
deep
dark
hollow
nothing.
and that's exactly what i fear the most,
nothing.