As the night divides the paths each person takes

Be it a club, straight home, or any other place

He treads these streets, straight to his home

A mere spineless crawler, with no soul of his own

“Soul? What is that?” The crawler inquires

A broken spirit with pretentious attires

His deafening silence can reach wherever

Shatter some screams and come back whenever

The crawler’s journey is an eternal tale

And thus, he shall not reach home, and will forever fail