I want to be lost...lost in imagination. I want my mind to wander to some far-off place, to forget the things of now. I want to deal with black and white, not grey. I want to talk and listen, and not be afraid. I want to show the truth to the entire world. I want to walk into a dark alley, and find a friend. I want to love the unloved. I want to free the scared and lonely from their fear. I want something, somehow, somewhere.

Strumming...strumming on the guitar. He sang softly to himself, a song of terror and rescue, a song about the morning light. His eyes burned with all the years of silent tears and untold fears. He thought of all he'd said and done, all his fame, all his life's work. He looked at his hands, wrinkled and fading, fading away with the rising sun. The words he sang caught in his throat, and died away. He sat silently, the guitar fallen to his side, his fingers shrivelled and useless. He had wanted something, years ago. He felt his breath begin to slow, he felt his heart working harder, he felt his blood rushing towards his head, and he fell to the ground, collapsing into a limp pile of old skin stretched over old bones. And finally, a tear fell from his eye, and he slowly turned his head to look out of the window, and he saw light finally streaking over the horizon. He breathed, trying to speak, and at last, in an almost unheard whisper, he said, "I want something, somehow, somewhere". He sighed out his last breath, and his bones crumbled into ash, and a breeze finally swept through the room, and he was no more.