One hundred days in dessert sand. A drifter in no-man's land. Following someone else's caravan. . I roam like a nomad since I left. Soaking in solitude.
Sunburned faces watch a nuclear sky. Initial conflict on the fourth of july. Children hide their heads and wonder why. No one really cares. . Crying on the inside.
Push forward. Lay to rest old fears. Not long ago I was one of them. I'm changing. The more I've changed. The harder it is to face what I was before. .