The nervous pacing,
racing for nowhere.
Watching a clock that does not tick,
There is but one cure for this kind of sick.
A memory haunts my dreams and visions.
Clouds my mind and stops my intutition.
Makes me falter and stop.
Before my enemy drops.
I look for a face that's not there.
I see her blond hair.
The smell of home.
I now see that I am alone.