The desperate search,
For some familiar earth.

The rise of the uncontrollable,
Until we resort to the toll of will,

The anxious blade,
Is the friend we made.

In our trying times,
That made tunnels of our eyes.

When our dice fall upon the zero,
There's no telling where we'll go,

Except to our secret place,
Where we've hidden our friendly blade.

Pain to distract from pain,
Just another color in our endless rain.

Ashamed of what we've done,
The scars we bear,
Are proof that we've won.
Because we were there.

Because we're still here.

For the memories of those who aren't,
Now would warrant a graceful tear.

For our brothers and sisters in arms,
and the arms who've bled,
we're the ones who know...

Just how strong we are.

You've made it this far,
There's no telling where you'll go

~Robert van Lingen