A young man walks with his head down
Through a town on the outskirts of Hell
Averting his gaze from defeated eyes
For the world and its ways, he knows well
And hope, its flesh rotting in historic corners
Festering with all that ever mattered
And dreams, painstakingly painted on glass
In shards, forgotten and shattered
Oh, the futility of care for tomorrow
Of prayers, aspirations and wishing
And causes constructed of good intent
Discarded, strewn and missing
Yet light still flickers amid black clouds
And sunlight does grace certain places
And there are still those who stand true and proud
And smiles adorn their faces
