Sighing, raindrops hit the window,
I sit in this old chair,
Watching them all the while, though...
I can't help but wonder if the Gods Cry.
Do they cry for me? Do they cry for the lost 'us'?
Do they cry for the way, those we knew, and hated so much?
Do they long for the touch of your skin on mine?
To delight in the meloncholy of my memory?
Or are they even listening to us at all?
To our plight, to our fight, our struggle as you may.
Or are we alone in this world?
As alone as I feel today?