Empty Lighthouse
Each clash of thunder;
It makes my heart turn to stone;
Pity on the traveler as a night-lightless house;
Trophys litter the sea floor,
your soul begins to escape the though.

Loves lost;
Ignite the flame;
Ghosts walk on water in the distant view.
Have you seen the guardian of the night,
Treacherous waves are now calling,
Help us protect the vessels, Oh, God,
Oceans are slowly turning red,
Utopia is at its brink;
Scared for those lives lost,
Each one it's time to pray.

© William Stephen Foos