Impure?

On a deserted land
waiting for a savoir
seems like no one understands
search for answers with prayers
The sun is down
Nothing to see in the far distance
Can’t pretend
That nothing never happened
completely out of luck
Nothing but lust
But why must I feel impure?
Because of the regions I explored
There is coldness
With a whist
and though the night there is silence
that nothing didn’t happened
that I didn’t want too.