Lost in the fray.
Screaming in dismay.
Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide,
this is where storm and ocean collide.

Where do we go from here?
What happened to angry skies once clear?
We wander down the same lonely road,
with no direction, far from home.

We drown in these darkened seas,
with no conviction, lost in the abyssal catacombs.
That’s when you know there’s no looking back.
That’s when the sky turns black.

Falling helplessly.
Controlled by dubiety.
No strength to fight, no strength to swim,
this is the end, this is where you give in.

Where do you go from here?
Anchored by your pain and buried by your fears?
You wander down the same lonely road,
with no direction, far from home.

You drown in these darkened seas,
with no conviction, lost in the abyssal catacombs.
That’s when you know there’s no looking back.
That’s when the sky turns black.

Anchored to the murky bottom.
Abandoned by the cold hands of Autumn.
Entangled in the web of your emotions.
Do you really want to drown, rotting on the bottom of the ocean?

We wander down the same lonely road,
with no direction, far from home.
We drown in these darkened seas,
with no conviction, lost in the abyssal catacombs.

You don’t drown by going under,
but by giving in to fear’s thunder.
Come whatever may,
you have the strength to stay.

You wander down the same lonely road,
with no direction, far from home.
You drown in these darkened seas,
with no conviction, lost in the abyssal catacombs.

​That’s when you know there’s no looking back.
That’s when through the darkness the sun cracks.

When it feels like you’re alone,
When it feels like you’re lost,
your body turns to stone,
buried in the cold winter frost.

Pieces of you shatter away,
with no hope to of the storm allay.
And as you wither and decay,
you see the world in disarray.

There is no lighthouse to guide you through the maze,
no shelter from the pouring rain,
no way to see through this murky haze,
no way to escape the pain.

When it feels like you’re alone,
When it feels like you’re lost,
your body turns to stone,
buried in the cold winter frost.

Only an empty shell remains,
no light, no joy, only darkness.
And as you fall to the floor tied in chains,
you wonder why the sky is so starless.

There is no sun to warm you from the cold,
no tide to wash away your agony,
no way for the wind to blow back all that it stole,
no way to halt the atrophy.

When it feels like you’re alone,
When it feels like you’re lost,
your body turns to stone,
buried in the cold winter frost.

Our fears anchor us to the ocean floor,
our guilt prevents us from finding the shore.
We sink way down, until we drown…
is there any way out?

When it feels like you’re alone,
When it feels like you’re lost,
your body turns to stone,
buried in the cold winter frost.

When it feels like you’re alone,
When it feels like you’re lost,
set the dark skies aglow,
and you will break through the cold winter frost.

Even when we have nothing inside,
and even when all we want is to die,
we can still brighten the world and give light,
helping us all push through this gloomy night.
​
Then maybe not so many would give up and drown,
and there could be a world we’d all want to be around.
We can be the lighthouses that guide the way
out of the storm and into a new day.

Over the rain cloud,
I hear a sound.
It calls to me, whispering in the night:
“Have no fear, it will be alright.”

But the wind shakes my windows,
and the thunder roars and bellows.
I toss and turn in my sleep.
The lurking shadows continue to creep.

Somewhere over the rain cloud,
I hear a sound.
It calls to me, whispering in the night,
but nothing is alright.

Day after day,
this stupid cycle is the same.
What is the point of picking the pieces off the floor
when they will be blown out the door?

All I have is this annoying gale
that dulls my day and makes life stale.
There is no happiness or light,
I’d be delusional to think everything’s alright.

After all, that’s what everyone has said before –
that the best place I belong is buried under the floor,
that all I am is a child’s plaything and a stupid whore,
that they never loved me and always wanted something more.

Somewhere over the rain cloud,
there is no sound.
No one calls to me, whispering in the night
that everything will be alright.

There is no hope, no joy, no reason for living…
there are too many pieces that are missing.
The world doesn’t deserve a pathetic body like mine,
that wastes so much space and time.

As I start to do the world a favor,
the sun glistens through the rain, causing me to waver.
That sound whispers at the death of night,
allaying my sorrow and fright.

It tells me that fear is only in our minds,
and the tight chains around me unbinds.
There is more than one point of view,
and these different perspectives teach us something new.

Over the rain cloud,
I hear a sound.
It calls to me, whispering in the night.
I know that everything will be alright.
​
As the blue skies fade to pallid gray,
I cheer waiting for the rain.
With every drum beat on the ground,
change is coming – it will come around.

Laying under the starless sky,
wondering how things went from right to wrong.
Wiping the tears from your eye,
wondering when people will hear your sad song.

Banging your head against the wall,
wondering when this madness will come to an end.
Crying from loneliness and missing their calls,
wondering why those you loved are dead.

Imprisoned behind pallid bars,
wondering when things will turn from wrong to right.
Drowning and covered in scars,
wondering how they sleep at night.

Sink and sway slowly,
watching your soul float away.
Shudder and scream so lonely,
as blood needlessly sprays.

Hope, it doesn’t exist
when all that you love is torn and beaten,
buried in the grave, with blood in the mist.
In this world, there are only demons.

Laying in a cold and empty cell,
praying that somebody will come to your side.
Screaming in your private hell,
praying that they’ll see through those empty lies.

Sink and sway slowly,
watching your soul float away.
Shudder and scream so lonely,
while blood needlessly sprays.

Hope, it doesn’t exist
when all that you love is torn and beaten,
buried in the grave, with blood in the mist.
In this world, there are only demons.

Green is the color that makes the world talk,
that makes the water turn red.
Oh yes it’s not the man but the money that walks,
and why so many are dead.

Blood lingers in the breeze.
Children scream as their family is slaughtered;
countin’ dollars is the carnival of sleaze.
Money is the real monster.

Is there any way out?
Out of these blood-soaked seas?
A lighthouse to guide us and ease our doubt,
a fire to give warmth before we freeze?

Sink and sway slowly,
watching your soul float away.
Shudder and scream so lonely,
while blood needlessly sprays.

Hope, it doesn’t exist (can we find the way out)
when all that you love is torn and beaten (of this desolate hell?),
buried in the grave, with blood in the mist (Bodies are piling up).
In this world, there are only demons (Does anyone care at all?).

Sink and sway slowly,
watching your soul float away.
Shudder and scream so lonely,
while blood needlessly sprays.

Hope, it doesn’t exist
when all that you love is torn and beaten,
buried in the grave, with blood in the mist.
In this world, there are only demons.
​
Can we find the way out,
out of this desolate hell?
Bodies are piling up,
does anyone care at all?