• Sorrow, carried on the whispers of many a tormented soul
    Tired, searching souls, souls looking for nothing, finding everything.
    Their sorrow infects us all.
    None are free from it.
    Turning the most optimistic into hopeless shells.
    Shells of what was, what used to be, themselves.
    The end is nigh. No. The end is here.
    Sorrow leads nowhere but to death.
    Cry, cry, cry.
    Dry the tears or you may die.