The blankets of lonelyness drift across the lands,

From a place that is no mans land.

A solemn feeling humans grasp

In the mist of certain blindness.

As for a visionary, the sight is no use.

They cage that restricts the human heart,

Thought the day as if though the hour,

With no change to the light whatsoever.

I only hope that disappear won’t last long,

A visit to everybody’s house and now beyond.

The streets of cars become lanteFogrns.

Just lights in the dark.

From house to house it creeps and reaps.

Show form the silence of the streets.

Even the birds that chip now drowned.

When the fog comes, all is silent.