"No one knows what it's like to be the bad man,
To be the sad man, behind blue eyes...
No one bites back as hard on their anger,
and none of my pain, can show through.
But my dreams they aren't as empty.
As my conscious seems to be.
I have hours, only lonely..." Limp Bizkit

There's a garden in the shadow of a tree, choked by sadness and gloom.
There's rainfall that caresses the pedals at dawn, but not enough to care.
A guardian sits alone in a corner wondering when to make the garden ready.
When should they come?
How should they feel?

The Sun rises slowly to its climax without knowledge of what it should accomplish.
It sees below only green leaves on the trees covering the garden.
It sees not the garden.
The Sun reaches out for the trees and gives them life, but do they pass it on?
When should they come?
How should they feel?

The garden waits for the Sun, for the trees, for the guardian.
The emptiness overflows it with sadness.
The guardian stands, the leaves move away and the Sun says, "Ah, there you are?"
How should they feel?