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I roam through a desert,
Devoid of any charm,
The winds howl around me
Kicking up puffs of sand, doing me much harm.
I wander through this maze
Grasping for some resemblance of life.
But nothing, nothing penetrates through this haze
No clearness of thought, of belief, of life,
Everything lies dry forgotten and bare.
Behold I see water
An aim to gallop towards
I unleash my feet towards this dream,
The scarred toes forget their fatigue
An exuberance rarely ever seen
Pulls me towards this awaiting sea.
The water never seems to get closer.
Didn't it hit you, you routine old loser,
It is a mirage.
A mirage of promises, of water never filled by buckets,
An illusion conjured by the Master of Puppets.
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