Dark solace, unforgiven regrets. Haunted dreams and lurking fear. A painfull past of tourture and hate. A stain on the soul, an avoidance of it all. It never happened, it all seems so far away, but comes back to blind me again. And once again you feel helpless. Left to freeze in this unforgiving wasteland. Eyes with nowhere to look, a heart with nothing to love. A barren wasteland of regret and passion lost. And somehow, the tourture within, becomes motivation without cause. So still we push on, failure our only sourse of hope. Inverted lives, live on against the odds. And I have been turned inside out and back again.