Dave Alan Walker

As I lie in bed watching the curtains blow in and out like a beating heart…

Should people tell when they know something is not right should people tell when they know it for a fact…

Wrapped in a mental image of one's self with no way out…

Scars of the mind that will never heal things that we have seen that don't seem real…

A dark moon rising almost as black as coal nothing can be done to save the world…

A life of fire burns deep inside As the days…

A lonely baby cries as her single mother tries to open her eyes…

A soul falling deeper and deeper into despair calling out for someone to be there…

Faraway voices like distant Indian drums footsteps and heartbeats all rolled into one…

Oh lord see me tell me I'm still free I see non existent chains wrapped around me…

Flickering lights sleepless nights thoughts of another life come into your mind…

Sleeping in daylight too scared to sleep at night there's voices in my head from people who are dead…

As I play the blues on my Gibson guitar it takes me back to those train track blues…

Gathered in the graveyards waiting for our own deaths recesses called graves waiting to take us…

A life that didn't stand a chance destroyed before it began like a sacrifice to the slaughter…