You look around for a direction,
But your old eyes keep looking home.
One giant piece of misconception -
There is no map in any written tome.
Some rules, a little bit of mist...
A tragic work of human greed!
The ones, who couldn't fight with fists,
Take world with words in lesser speed.
The road is always ugly to the "blind",
The cowards always stick to crowds.
A whine of "what we lost" is deep within the ground,
It sunk under self-pity of "We couldn't find".