I walked down a street I had never seen before,              A house alone that wasn't lonely before,                           A chimney spitting flames into the dirty sky above,        Rising and staining a graceful dove.                          It swooped and it dipped and it dropped to the ground,         If I hadn't have been there would it have made a sound?    Down I kneeled, took off my jacket and lowered it down, Prayed for survival and the grass on the ground.            A smell so strong as I longed to belong,                        to a planet in mourning for a world that suffered,           as the lights flickered, when for the last time its wings fluttered.                   This was the end of a beautiful being,                        The death of the world is what were seeing.

I moved the earth, the dust and the gravel.                     I felt ash between my fingers 6 feet below my level.            If theres hell above is this heaven below,                   I search for an angel to let me know.                    Refilling a hole in the earth is a lifelong repair,        Zombies with shovels walking around in dispair.           Silence is deafening and sounds go unheard.                 Blank landscapes are blind and visions are blarred.            A strange aroma has put the atmosphere in a coma.         The stench of destruction,       a shield that will no longer function.                        Time died along time ago, night or day I don't quite know.

Further on down the road I came across a girl,               alone, dirty, naked and burned. I try to help her but she attacks me in a rage,        acting like an animal that should be locked in a cage. She's bitin' and scratchin' and tearin' my clothes,          with the strengh of ten men wild swings she throws.              I fall to the floor and see her no more,                         as the sound of a shotgun cracks through the air,               it squeals and cries as a horrid creature scurries out of her hair.                         Now appears the rarest sight,                        the shape of person who I cant make out.                 Standing solid, of his paranoia I'm aware.                      He feels like he's trapped between here and there.         He eyes me up like an unknown entity, slowly lowering the gun he had pointed at me.           No longer alone, two strangers without a home.            Nomadic forever, untill we can change the weather.

A half buried whiskey bar on a dusty road.                   Out of the warm and into the cold.                          In we go, searching for liquour. A few glasses to see out the scorching winter.               A crate of malt, upon I stumble. Pour a glass and sit on a chair feeling humble.               This is a eutopia, a place of escape.                    Gettin' away from the radiation that came and raped.           The pleasant burn in my stomach reminds me of the heat that ate and tore the flesh off my feet. The more I drink the more I think, back to a time when it was safe to walk the street. Back to a time when there where crops you could eat.          This bar was once full of life. A crowded dancefloor where a man met his wife.                 They danced in circles with their hearts in their arms, hanging around their necks like lucky charms.                Away to a hotel they left that night, to make a baby that would see the world fall from light. The stranger sipped his whiskey with a strane delicasy,      eyeing it with a look of curiosity.                    Not sure if this would please or churn the pallete.            This was the search for existence,                     on we walked with feelings of persistance.                    A glimmer of hope yet no hope at all.                           Walking in an empty world made us feel small.                  A jagged planet.                 A rugged place. The search for the answer has become a two man race.