To Fuel the Fire

The Maid With No Name

Here I am
This is me
I have no name that I remember
They've been gone so long
I haven't talked to anyone
To anything
Since that night
They took everything
My hopes
My safety
My heart
I was so young
I'm the last of my kind
Roaming the seas
Waiting
Always waiting
For someone
Anyone
To find me
Four hundred years
You'd think I'd have found someone
All I have to call my own
Is a collection of shells
Which I paint in my spare time
Which is all the time
It gives me a feeling I cannot describe
When I look at them
My soul sings a strange but beautiful song
They seem to light up the night
I suppose
If something as simple
As painted shells
Can make me feel so much
Then maybe
Just maybe
Four hundred more years
Won't be so bad