The fog by night is darker, deeper, shrouding everything,
No stars shine through, no moonlight glimmers,
All sounds are muted colours dim, there is no hope here,
No hope at all, only cold and damp malevolence.
Dawn comes queasy grey to light another joyless morning,
Cold light without colour lacks the power to warm my heart,
I’d dream of something better but I don’t know how to picture it,
There is no hope here, no hope at all.
The world is bleak with apathy, too willing to accept it all,
The empty listless life, the sunless mournful days and night terrors,
Fear becomes your companion, familiar and cruel,
There is no hope here, only poison in this world.
The chill within my bones has been with me most of my life,
If I ever knew true warmth I forgot about it long ago,
There is no salvation and no heroic rescue,
When the monsters are inside you, there’s no hope at all.
(The Hopeless Fog Song features in the opening to The Gathering. It does have a tune and I have sung it in public. The image is from Hopeless Maine Victims, out this summer. Any conclusions you may wish to draw from the juxtaposition are entirely up to you… )