I cry,
for I love you all,
Happy and full,
or lost and empty,
drifting and wandering,
Quiet and blind
we're all only numbers on a page

Tired and falling
slowly through another night.

Aren't we all only trying
to hold back the truth of the dawn
and the inevitable.

When we're forced to awaken
in a fearful rage,
In the fright of sadness
pondering the loss of a friend,

taken by time and evil,
forever silenced
one less number on the page.


Copyright 1995 Pierre Ortega