He couldn't cry and so burned up like chaff.
"It's not so bad," she said. "It happens every day."
He never heard her; the wind had carried him away.
Speed metal plays on a tinny radio.
With eyes to sky he says, "Looks like snow."
No one hears him except the wind.
And so he slowly fades away from within.
Before the show, he fidgets with a child's clockwork toy
Wound up oh so tight for all to enjoy
Lets it go one last time, it lays where it is dropped
After one wind too many, all the gears have stopped
It brings song and cry and rain and dirt
Stories of joy and those of hurt
The kind, the evil; all have sinned
All get carried away on the wind.