Nothing’s as it seems.
It seems
my perceptions
Cannot fathom the direction
In which I am truly going
Instead they keep me slowing
To languish over milkish spills
And swallow oblong pinkish pills
Which keep the horrish voices still
But cannot give my life the thrill
That it was made for
Before the Great War
Delivered the death blow
But victory comes slow
When you’re king of eternity
Eyes open when it’s time to see
Can’t rush the awakening
Some boots will be quakening
But others will be kneeling
Or dancing on the ceiling
Bodies reeling
From the blows of love
Sent from above
Like a mighty thunder
You best get under
The sacred umbrella
And like Cinderella
Let the magic transform you
The clothes that are worn through
And torn by the wicked witch
Receive much more than a stitch
When the black night falls from the sky.
Now learn the mystery
Passed down through history:
To live we all must die.
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