Ranting, raving, shaking my fists at the darkness, screaming outloud, "Hello?"

The rain keeps pouring down, washing away the sins, but freezing them onto the floor where they stare up at me, reminding me of what I have become.

Plans, damn, who gives a shit!

Random style, sitting here, waiting for the relief, that will never come, cause the bus broke down a hundred miles away from here.

We're all going to die, someday, we'll wander away, breaking hearts and making tears.

Or nobody will give a damn, the ground shall swallow us up, the Heaven's arm shall not embrace us, pull us into eternal sleep, but Hell's fire shall gobble us up.

I keep staring into the darkness, waiting for an answer.  

The wind blows, the trees creak, the world keeps spinning, but still no answer.

The road keeps drifting by, the sign reads 'Rest Stop, Next Exit - 60 miles to the next stop!'

Driving past, figure the time will go quicker with no rest, the lines throwing themselves past us, faster, faster, quickly into the darkness.

I tread across the field, eyes to the horizon, feet moving quietly against the grain of the Earth, sweet smells drifting into my nose, eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord or some bullshit from 1922.

The days turn into nights, the nights turn into years, and when it is all said and done, there is the stone upon which is written, "Here lies a quiet son, alone in life, no more tears wept for him, he is now with friends...."

I don't want to die, don't want to live, sit down, stand up, get out, what the hell?

Danny Johnson wasn't my friend, I didn't know him, but for some reason, his death at his own hands made me sad, made me want to reach out and slap him.

His mother was there on the television, crying, "My boy! My beautiful boy! Why? Why?"

Nobody knows why, it just is.  Who knows what lurks in the minds of mere damn mortals during these times, the times of happiness, joy, sadness, whatever.

Bullet strikes out, tears out, takes away everything, by our own hands, by another, knife, rips, tears, kills, whatever.

There I am, walking down the road, where am I going? I have no clue, I wish I knew.

I'd ask for directions but all I'd get is more questions, so I keep walking, stumbling over broken rocks.

Didn't we use to laugh about such things, cried about the stupidest things?

How does it feel?

Wandering into the great unknown?

Get use to it?

I will never get use to this shit, this thing called life...