Title: Born to run
Author: Lore
Rating: G


The quiet sadness of the people of the north echoes silently around the cold grey places. Ecstacies undared tremble upon the edge of the tightly, respectfully unfulfilled. He stood there,waiting for the morninglight. Waiting for someone he knew would not come. Not for him, one of the lost.

One who would drink to excess in order to forget what never happened. What could have, should have been. If only the world was just, if only faith was true. But then, as it's namesake, faith was an unfaithfull mistress, waiting to beat her lover in the head.Just as long as her own needs were met.

Brave faces, well dressed ordered mind on suicide's edges, a reflection of his own mind on the rainskimmed slate gray, battleship gray, hardship gray....

I'd walked here,an ageless eternity. Up to here, to wait, for what I did not know. Further north, and homeless, here I am. Globally-altered and dishevelled. Clothes shredded in battles for someone who would not come.
Could not come.

Oh luv, I've done it all
An antithesis of sorts, and yet bound together and hopelessly in love with the inevitable loss of her. And with her, of it all.
And the end.

I was the last, she the first. She stood there bathing in the sunlight, living, I not. How could she choose me, knowing that. Knowing me.

I fought for her, for me, for it all. Yet she left me naked like a child on a morningwell. Leaving me tattered, tainted by my sins.

I can feel it coming, feel it touching me, holding me. And I wait for it's burn. I can not run, don't want to, I'm running to it.

And the light touches me slowly, touching the shadows inside of me, I sit down, holding my knees, begging for it to end. But death it brings not, only a caress...



The group is Marillion, the song is "Born to Run" from
their album, _Radiation_.

The quiet sadness of the people of the north
Echoes silently around the cold grey places
Ecstacies undared tremble upon the edge of the
tightly,
respectfully unfulfilled
Who drink to excess in order to forget
what never happened.
Brave faces
Well dressed ordered mind on suicide's edges
Reflected in the rainskimmed slate gray,
battleship gray, hardship gray....

And further south, and homeless,
Here I am. Globally-altered and dishevelled
Oh darling, I've done it all
An antithesis of sorts,
And yet bound together and hopelessly in love
with the inevitable loss
And the end
How can we run from ourselves?