Walls built-up so high,
Chains of sorrow and guilt
wrapped around the neck,
A fight for understanding;
The meaning of life itself
lost in the struggle for survival.

But in the midst of time,
A sanctuary is burn,
A place of rest and refuge and comfort
in the middle of a nonstop western lives,
Running towards something of mistaken value,
Remaining all alone in the night.

Hiding between walls with no windows,
Trying to find your own self again,
But it is like an illness without a cure:
Never to be found by your own research.
Voices that hide in the dark,
Faces that lurk in the shadows,
They will never let go.

Hiding inside an infected bubble,
All exposed for everyone to reach,
Plain for all to see.