by Holli Vaine

As the light left the eyes of a stanger,
As the faith bled from a church in a small town,
As the hero lept from danger,
As the moon rose bright, white and round...

She was there waiting.

As the stanger was laid to rest,
As the people stopped coming to the church,
As the hero was forced to work behind a desk
As, for the moon, people made a desprite search...

She was there waiting.

As the stranger was forgotten,
As the church lay broken an decayed,
As the hero died, not deserving what he had gotten,
As the slowly rising sun destroyed the shade...

She was there waiting...

What was she waiting for,

Where is she now,

Who is she?