I walk with a look of
deception on my face,
later portrayed by the darkness
lingering on the lonesome road
that society walks on,
like soldiers brainwashed by their lieutenant.

My faith is weak 'cause I walk
on the pavements of gray,
my heart thumps with a deep beat
like a glowing pile of coals after bristling.

In the dead hours of the night
my love is as dead as an orphan's tears
crying in the woods
of a railroad town,
forgotten with death on the mind.

I walk alone as wise men did,
with fierce tears in their eyes,
and to you I pray,
as dawn be thy light,
with death I might
be on the road as Indians told
the stories turn old,
and blood goes cold.