In the darkest of nights you can hear the screams. Muffled screams of nightmares past... Distant memories of drowning souls. Burning bodies just on the outskirts of hell's gates... Presumptions of lost innocence... Walking in the arid desert night, humming a little tune. Am I really alive anymore? Will I awaken to some new life free of the darkness and despair? Insanity knocks on my dusty door, begging me to come out. And I turn from my door to see him smoking at my kitchen table. So I sat down with him, had a drink, and we discussed memories of love, the fallacy of righteousness, and the numbness of this thing called life...
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