I’ve been called The Lone Wolf and maybe I am one?
Maybe I should feel honoured to be called that?
Deep down in my soul I don’t feel honoured because wolves normally move around in packs.
They are rarely seen alone.

In my life time I have walked through the darkest of rivers in search of some peace.
The river was swallowing me, choking the life blood out of me, treating me as if I am the enemy.
All I see are those thick, slimy weeds and grass trying to drag me down into the dark pit of no return.
Yes, I have been through hell and back.

People pass me by and all I see are smiles on their faces.
But not a smile creases my tired face even though the sun was shining.
I am surrounded by total darkness, darkness so deep that it is quite scary.

Mother Nature treats me as if I am some kind of violent criminal.
The black universe out there chases me as if I’m a rabid animal.
What crime have I committed?

It felt like I was in the centre of the Bermuda Triangle with no chance of bail or parole, no reprieve for me.

Music what is that to me?
When I am searching my restless soul for answers, I must figure out my journey.

My whole life is like a maze with no beginning or no end.
Yes, peace somehow always eluding me.
Time and time again I ask myself this question: What am I running away from?
I failed to come up with the answer.

Love crossed my path once but I was too blind to see it.
From that point of view I was a real fool.
Typically and true to nature I ran away.
I hope that true love will spread its wings over me again because that was euphoric.

I can’t predict where these endless roads will take me!
Or where i will be?
But I hope it is somewhere where I can be content because I am tired of running.

For now it remains a bridge I must still cross.