Lies there a beaten path on the axons in my frontal lobe. I've scrutinized the variables still I remain unable to crack the code. There's this man upstairs has them all in fear like he poses es a pistol they don't sell around here. But down here we don't care if we live or we die so the gun of the giant doesn't give us a scare. When the bullets bury themselves you better pray for a miracle. Or lay down and die if you aren't that spiritual. The dead in the ground prove there's not enough to go around. My will to live has faded as faith did. I retreat to the ocean by the hole where I once hid. Its just me, the open sea and philosophy, the sky, the trees, the dirt, the leaves and what they meant to me. My pitiful past, the roulette wheel of memories flash, I turn smirk of a frown 'Why?' Because I ain't ever coming back. The lighting and thunder. The waves push me over and pull me under. Cold chills me to the bone I sink I'm finally on my way home.