I wander far beyond the stream
of useless, never-ending dreams
and see my face amidst the land
that is no more but dust and sand.
If I were to sit and wonder
why the pirates always plunder
why the sky is torn asunder
would I only hear the thunder
Of a long forgotten road
lay'd of dirt and ancient stone?
I wonder why I am alone
and search for why I hear the moan
And why the sayers say, "not I"
and atheists all over, "Fie!"
and why all little birds must die
whilst I'm still here. Alone.
"Not I."