Those are the gaunt faces with hollow eyes that haunt the darker places in my mind.
In despair, I am dragged into the nightmares where I meet them there,
the dead friends who for unfortunately the dying never ends.

But I should be insulated from these terrors that I hold,
age and the act of getting old is quite enough for me.

Ha,
the memory like the rolling stone comes a rolling home and brings with it the bad times.

They go away but not so far away that I don't know they're there
and they wait for me and the wandering of my memory to roll back in on me.

Like the sea
I am the tide that rushes in and from the shore,
what more can I be, but just the rolling of a memory and the places where those faces go on haunting me.
I roll the dice.