>I stand here on the edge of nothing.
>Staring out over nothing.
>Nothing, that's all it is.
>I am nothing without my rifle.
>I am nothing but my rifle.
>Lifeless, empty.
>People look at me like a person.
>I look down on myself from above.
>Separated, what was once whole.
>I watch myself march into nothing.
>Nothing left but me.
>It's all just nothing. Just me, and my rifle.

>I march through nothing.
>I have found nothing.
>Yet through this I find myself walking familiar ground
>Tracing lines in the dust, the dirt.
>Nothing over head, nothing for miles around.
>Yet I have come come and my home is nothing.
>Nothing but me and my Rifle