and in the dark, by my lonesome
i'll put together a thousand soundscapes
of the adventures we've been on

the strumming of a lone guitar among the hushed whispers
of survivors long-gone, and tales long-forgotten
a woman's voice, clear cut and chilled
singing a mournful ballad for all to hear.

the endless creaking, crackling of rust
water dripping and stirred up dust
dragging pipes, chains and more;
falling asleep on the catwalk's floor.

i made a selection, just for you,
of teenagers running and laughing
snow kicked up, fire crackling
perhaps you're alongside them, cackling