12:15 A.M.

Through the days, it's as if i'm standing a thousand miles, away, up on the hill tops looking down on the shattered ones, the forgotten ones, gasping their final breath for an outcome that will always be the same. These scattered ashes in the wind are all carried by a prayer long ago, far away, from Sundays best. A thousand knees at the alter, one thousand hearts crossed in prayer, and to this day we all have crosses to bear. So for this outcome that revolves in the same, we must cry out to the lord, and confess our pain... Only then may we exhale.