A blank look upon your face endures,
A misery in your heart is pure...

1st Verse:
It's been a rough ride...

Come with me, my deteriorating child,
We will be trekking far into the wild...

Dear mom:
I can not take it anymore...

I see a poor child staring through a window,
At an unattainable plaything in a toy store mall...

Do you hear me, my little child?
It's the gray ghost...and you are the one I...

This house is too quiet,
And everything seems so still...

This girl, young and meek,
Wanting joy all her life, not knowing where to...

The field is large,
An open valley where 20,000 men fought...

Wanda Westhare from Zaire--which is nowhere--was...

If the words were enough...
To transit time...

I lay in my bed, as I have for forty days,
Listening, listening...but always in a daze...