Figures dancing in shadows reveal to me a man broken, tortured, lonesome too hard to understand Why was his life wasted why he didnt care why he forsook us all too hard to understand Gleaming shards of broken glass the pane of past erased his mind a shallow pond of filth his life a sad cold place. Reading no vacancy poignantly no place within forsaken as a withered plant how can he call me kin? Father Id like to call you the reservation grew to old I stopped dusting it off long ago written in sand not in stone. You danced back into shadows long forgotten is your face an oblivion of damaged recollections chaos took your place...