. . . . . . . . . . . . . Hello darkness, my old friend. I've come to talk with you again, because a vision softly creeping, left its seeds while I was sleeping. And the vision that was planted in my brain still remains, within the sound of silence.
We all live in a house on fire, no fire department to call, no way out, just the upstairs window to look out of while the fire burns the house down with us trapped, locked in it.