I am pulled to pieces by the gnawing hope for day
while the silent grip of twilight begs my flesh to stay
and while the brief moments of sweet sanity
afford me clarity and calm,
in the soundness of my mind
I still cannot see the dawn.

What is left of my desire, those portions I still own,
is fading fast, and waning first
is the hope I had for home.
But wretched man that I am
I am as stubborn still
so even here as I resign
I still await thy will