I forge the path that I walk, alone with my back to the 
doors of my prison; an open road that seems endless 
before me and I found that each day that I stop the 
revolving world and inspect the framework of my 
thoughts and motivations that inspire movement.
Each step taken as I breathe deep.
Each sight and sound entices and taunts me.
The fear rises up inside of me.
Panic!
I cannot run or make undone the past; these moments; 
the words that were spoken.
Each step now heavy; burdened; but I choose to...
Dance with the dead and with the spirit of freedom 
burning within.
We must.
Dance with the dead and it's the lessons that lead us 
inspire our strength.
Embraced in white noise in a coma-like sleep as the 
world around me moves in its twists and its turns.
As I seem to float along in spirit; in flesh above and 
below connected with the pain.
This Narrow path I walk alone leads me to cities filled 
with souls.
Lost in the tempest empty ambition fills the streets.
Suppressed deception like the cracks in the foundations 
of buildings
Shadow meets light like waves crashing and receding 
each day.
As time passes I feel the breathing of crowded streets.
Dance with the dead. This life without breath.
There's no time for amends this epitaph I send.
Dance with the dead and with the spirit of freedom 
burning within we must.
Dance with the dead and its the lessons that lead us 
and inspire our strength.
The earth is cracked.
The water rises and I could hear them scream choking 
then there was silence of the dead.