Patches.

Falling spiral,

to the earth that we walk,

the peaks have shurnk,

the pawns are we,

seaking energey,

My soul burns,

for love in return,

is it granted,

soon we will know,

if any one loves you,

But always I do,

we do not speak,

Your so much like me,

I don't know you,

but still your my all,

with the knowlage that your out there,

I live to be loved,

and search through the crouds,

millions of faces,

I can't relate to these clowns.

But as I stand,

and as I stair,

I know from obsurvation,

The shadows of Rome are here.