Iíve got a written expression
Carved into stone skin.
Chisel out this ache in the cracking smile.
Iíve stared past a thousand miles, and you understand well enough that my hands can no longer move.
My feet youíve left in a bated triumph, but starting to perish from the rain.
Where is my master? Lord? Where are your controlling eyes?
For I stand here alone; even the birds no longer grace my ears.