There's something inside,
always insecure,
it's in the best and worst of us,
no matter where we stand.

We all feel it,
it's a disease,
a disease you cannot heal,
not even time.

For when it hits,
its a cancer,
coming and going,
as society see's fit.

There is no peace,
no rest, no healing,
no place to hide,
not from the lonely.

There is no place
you can run to
to escape
the loneliness.

No place for you
to hide,
it's nothing
you can run from.

It's the words
and the people,
often times
the lack of thereof.

There is no hope
not for the lonely.
No healing,
for it cannot be healed.

When you've felt the lonely,
you'll know its touch,
for the rest of your life,
forever in your heart.

But you must
fight the feeling,
for there is a way,
to counter the lonely.

There is no peace,
no rest, no healing,
no place to run to,
not from the lonely.

So don't be lonely,
don't the lonely
snuff out your spark,
hold up those already gone.

For if you're not lonely,
there are others who are,
so don't let them be lonely,
let them belong.

There is no peace,
no rest, no healing,
no place for you to run,
not from the lonely.

So don't let them be lonely,
spare them the thought,
save them from the curse,
it's never too late.

Don't let them be lonely,
protect them from the pain,
lock away the fear,
it's not too hard.

It's never too far,
never too cold, or though,
it's never to late,
not for the lonely.