The sun comes up with promise and my eyes burn open wide and the sting compounds the torture from the vacant hole inside my conscious recollection of the past events all seem to verify the emotion that now envelops me dogged as a drone stagnant as the stone weathered and alone living on the fault line there's no one here to listen but there's always room for more they pretend to give you your say before they slam the door there's very little patience, and very little love there's just your constant puzzlement for what you're guilty of dogged as a drone stagnant as the stone weathered and alone living on the fault line no one need deliver me from such a familiar place i've come to terms and work in this ribald downtrodden state it's subliminal friction under a kind of veneer and a form of cold injustice that keeps me stationed here dogged as a drone stagnant as the stone weathered and alone living on the fault line