• He walks silently through the fields
    With a cool breeze that passes him by
    Numbers, numbers start to appear
    like a plague of locusts,
    Spinning all around, they sweep him up
    like a fierce tornado
    In madness he spins trying to make sense of it all
    His mind in a daze, digits driving him wild
    Frustration, anger, confusion...
    Yet, through the whispers of the wind
    A soothing melody reaches his ears
    With the strength of many he is freed
    from the cyclone
    Numbers disperse but only to return
    Another dark day.