I have an unending need for people,
to feel flesh against flesh against sheets.
My blood pumps so forcibly, shaking my bones,
I have an unceasing need to find those I must meet.

Though the look in my eyes has grown weary,
and the feelings I have are short-lived.
Though I've never seen anything clearly,
and I've hardly felt more than a kid.
Though I've lived many lives before this one,
and none of them have reached their goal.
Not one of these facts can discourage
my constant search for shelter from the cold.