Written by Ras Munroe and Hastywords

The land should be familiar
but it is never the same.
It is a foreign substance
beneath my callused feet.

It is a strange feeling
seeking acceptance labelled outcast.
Alone yet surrounded by people
this is but an empty existence.

The turmoil runs deep
like pulsing veins of sand,
but the rain courses strong
  Purifying the past of its impurities.

Getting rid of all defilement
setting the soul free
to explore new found freedom;
discovering what it means to be ALIVE.