A million different people, but not one I could talk to,
this awful feeling must be what they call loneliness,
I need a warm shoulder for my skull to rest
but the mist of the mystery lies beyond me and myself.
I'm calling out for help, and the only voice I hear back
sneers back, "you are alone".

A million different people, but not one I could talk to,
A million different people, but my forked view could not
seem to spot the few.