Dead Lost The cost of redemption too high for humanities dregs to bare There is no longer light at the tunnel's end and my mirrored friend's eyes are vacant with tomorrows lost expectation... When will the pain end and the sun rise on the morning of our soul's desolation? Droll preachers intone empty words of pity from the ancient book they've been bred to recite.
Whiskey or beer might illuminate the darkness better.