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You hear the cries of the night.
Riding, and tiding in those so confiding in you for the Answers to life's sorrow.
Listening to plunder and Blight of the many.
You scream your ill fury.
Knowing and going with the flowing of people that press for today and the morrow.
For peace and a hurry for answers if any.
Watching the crimson haze.
Flicker on past, not the last by far in the cast for the man with the solutions to all.
A rat in a maze seems like what it is.
Snarling out curses to who surround you.
Obscenities given, and driven to lengthy things riven from original works in the making.
How any you think you slew in that biz?
Don't ask.
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