I've been accused before,
of being something strange,
because I wear a mask,
that doesn't fit my face.
I'll see these people walk,
with fire in their hearts.
I long to feel the same
but burning leads to pain.
So the only place I stay,
is between the night and day,
where those that listen close,
will hear the slow decay.
But each and every morning
I light another flame.
Excused from love or hate,
I sleep away my shame.
But winds will come my way,
and leave a charred remains.
The dealer's bluffed a round,
and all my chips were out.
In my old and cosy cave,
I spend the other days.
This bed of solid earth,
has always strengthened me.
I'd have known no different,
If I'd not have been seen.
Now I've felt the summer,
and the sunlight hides from me.