There’s a light, a flash, a shout at me.
Don’t know the words, but the meaning is clear.
Thrown to the ground, face in the sand–
The gun’s pointing right at me.

Metal to the head, as I dare not move,
Cleaned out, nothing left at all,

but that which has real meaning:

a friend, a life to live,
a journey to make.
(Though not the one planned.)

If the feeling is fear, the feeling is strong,
empowered, the strength drives me on.

With a friend, a life to live,
a journey to make,
(though a different one now).

And the journey goes on,
cleaned out, nothing left at all
but the important things:
the journey that brought me here,
a friend,
a life lived,
now part of who I am.