• They whisper our name,
    And we are never the same.
    Their sad songs we cannot understand,
    They long for trust and a comforting hand.
    Alone they wounder lost and cold,
    Re-living lifes lost in the years of old.
    Tacken but beofore their time,
    Pehaps for something that was not their crime.

    Nice or evil which ever one,
    They will never again walk in the sun.
    So dont fear them when they appear,
    Hold out a hand to help them see clear.
    Let them come is what i say,
    Show them that its a new day.
    For in years to come,
    You may find yourself as one.