Trampling through the essays which were written one tomorrow and you know you'll never read them,
why is life filled with such sorrow?
but you keep on walking through them 'til they're fallen men on battlefields and it makes you feel so hollow when the echoes sound inside you,when the words join up around you and there's no one left who knew you but the essay stands on sentry call to catch and if then you should fall there's always one tomorrow and another entry wading through your soul.

The lights go on in somewhere but you've been there far too often and there's nothing left to keep you as you wander through the weeping and you know it's the beginning but the ending is no secret it was written on the exit signs that hung drunkenly in doorways and you've been through those same doorways many times.