And mad heart burns cold in mountain breeze. The tops of every peak lower inhibitions and expectations. The drowning moan of too much air in lungs. They whisper in fear and hope. The words in eyes of muscle, and torn repair falls aloud to scream in nothing. The all of nothing in end of beginnings. I cry again without tears, without substance or need but faith. In time their should but be solace. When the caps of borrow steal me. I top the pain and anguish with bitter and faith. There wont ...