Blank face in the windowpane   Made clear in seconds of light   Disappears and returns again   Counting hours, searching the night      Might be waiting for someone   Might be there for us to see   Might be in need of talking   Might be staring directly at me      Inside plays a lullaby   Slurred voice over children cries   On the inside      Haunting loneliness in the eye   Skin covering secret scars   His hand is waving a goodbye   There's no response or action returned      There is deep prejudice in me   Outshines all reasons inside   Given dreams all ridden with pain   And projected unto the last