A man in his suffering bridaled by his toungue. A collection of thoughts that are reduced to a sum. With his fate at hand at the rolling of a thumb. His attempt at redemption is met to be shunned. He will forever be held by the passing of the moon and sun. He watches helplessly wanting to say so much but never does. He is his own prisoner. He want's to be but never does. He is the man who does not understand true love. He is the man that once was.

-RSC