In this deserted land of wilted dreams and poisoned thoughts
Unto the gates of questions yearned and answers sought I try to grasp
The vines of pitchless torment reaching down from balustrades above
Ascension granted by a means discovered between the lines of prescribed
Serenity and in this hope I find the lies of sentience past
Weakened by the climb to find the end of the path I was forced to walk
By unseen hands inside my head that twist the thoughts to suit their own designs
A flash of light behind the eyes and reality returns to reinforce
The servitude of spirit and soul to demons of the earth
Hands clasp tight to the tears and folds the anchor me to one dimension