Electricity's running a short fuse
Where's the fire?
Where's the spark?
It's lost in a virgin forest
stagnant, roaming in the dark

And the wind whispers
there's something not right with this one
perputual complex
in love with the conflict
crying for the morning sun
howling for the lost song unsung
streaking tears without absolution
I need a light to right this crooked wrong
And the wind whispers

There is no solace in this silence
yet the heartbeats remain
chanting shallow, hollow tunes 
throbbing for empty gain

There is no solace in this silence
Yet pins and needles mingle on the veins
Stinging, Itching
Yearning to, one day, be free again 

And the wind whispers
there's something not right with this one
perputual complex
in love with the conflict
crying for the morning sun
howling for the lost song unsung
streaking tears without absolution
I need a light to right my crooked wrongs
And the wind whispers

Frigid minds hibernate
rest, nest
await transition's arrival

Frozen solid solitude
summons senses revival

Mother Nature's Holy Bible
Service calls for survival
.
.
.
And the wind whispers