There was a strange boy,
A strange boy was he,
His eyes were big, bright,
Shiny like frost in the moonlight.
He sat desolate, one day
Singing songs in dismay,

Went to those places, reminiscing,
The sweet memories of love, laughter,
Filled with the anguish of storms chasing after,
His soul
That grew cold and cold,
Hid herself amidst the four walls,
Rolled and rolled,
Into the deserts of shadows,
Where to find the rest?
He didn’t know.

Funny boy, a funny boy was he,
Wearing a mask, covered with dust,
A smile he put, that wasn’t just
To cover the trails of smoke and fumes
In the loneliest darkest rooms.
He could never be quiet,
Chattered and chattered,
About the things that mattered
Are now scattered,

Like the leaves, when the wind blows
When the dust flows and flows,
Before the storm.
As the tension hummed,
Louder and louder,
Sadness pressed down on him
Squeezing out the little light,
That once shined bright and bright,
In the darkest night.

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