CORRIDORS
 
 
I'm running through these corridors
and shadows fill my head
of tall machines and brutal wars,
of millions that are dead.

I walk these endless corridors
and see the wasted land,
the gray surf pounding lifeless shores,
the dry and sterile sand.

I crawl these bloody corridors
to seek something alive.
The echoes in these hollow floors
just mock my futile cries.

I lay here in these corridors
but I am not alone.
The sound of those who died before
me whisper in my bones.

They ask me what became of man;
I don't know what to say.
The voice of silence never can
be answered, anyway.