blistered feet stride endlessly to the tune of boredom left alone, and rightfully so i patiently mete out the day without proper introductions thrashing in a silver sea unable to cope with my predicament erring slightly, missing a breath i'm caught between scylla's cacophony and my own whirlpool crawling past the pixellated sand i realize that this land is foreign thorns of a bloodied rose constantly touched by a hematic past but you've got your own troubles to address a triumvirate of political militants causing great unrest disorder seizing your weary shoulder leaving a paralyzed populace in its wake my singular consolation is found in this remarkable steak