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When the earth turns over
Dust will settle in
When nature takes back it's home
I'll search for you
In this wasteland,
Where grass now grows from cement
When people, now gone, are replaced by the sound
And silent air in it's lonesome

The vacant buildings will stand as haunting monuments
Casting grave shadows below upon their gaze
I'll search for you
In this endless cold,
Where damp filthy clothes become my skin
And the miles become weeks
And the weeks become years
I'll search for you

In each deserted town
In every empty car,
I'll scan  horizons and tree lines alike
The world will wait,
As weary and futile my deterrence
With the memory of your warmth, fueling my steps
And will serve as food among the starving

As the abandoned spreads,
Endless in it's sprawling
When there's nothing else that matters
When the worlds at and end,
When the only thought I have is your voice
I will search for you
To be known
Is to be real
To never be known
Means living a fantasy
To be misunderstood
Is to be refused existence
It’s not necessary to be understood, to be in relationship, but it feels really nice. Better than physical union of bodies, is a unity of the spirit.
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