We are the religious ones without a god
We are the children of sin with no devil
We are the prophets whose voices have failed centuries ago
We are the siren call that no longer sounds
We are the artists with no muse
We are the singers with no song
We are the writers with no quill
We are the sculptors with no clay
We are the seeing in a land of no color
We are the hearing in a land of no sound
We are the feeling in a land of no joy
We are the hopeful in a land of no hope
We are the diseased with no cure
We are the dying when there is no life
We are the smiling with no happiness
We are the pained with no hurting
We are the empty ones
We are the lost children