They are dying for it, they are bleeding for it, they are begging for it. And yet it will not come.

Like pure water from a well of mud, I dig for those who cannot drink, and wait with those who thirst on their own.

I am disgusted by those who flaunt it. By those who pour their wasted water out and splash it down upon the stones.

So cold and careless. They care nothing for the crowded rooms, filled with those who stand alone.