Where could I find another
Day of streams and gentle stutter
Where could I ever have sought
To seek, to find, to discover?
When days are winded, counting down
To many a summer’s eve
Those faces that appeared before me
In my slumbering sleep
Cried out with moans that cast a shadow
Near to heart, they urged
To find another cage

Their tortured souls appeared before
Me in my deathly slumber
With prays and tales of days
And sunshine shears of sunny gloom
Why would they ask
Why would they seek
Such magnificent, eerie casted
Deep unto a grounded
Sleep, unto a grounded
Hell

Where does the breath cast
Angels wings?
Where do the blooms cast
Horrid things
That terrify and petrify
And sink with every step
Into a memory
Buried so deep
From recollection
In the wake of sleep?

Yet faces lived before in
Vestibules so far and wide
So foreign were their words
To pray
So foreign that before my eyes
I could not see, and blind was I
And blind was I
And blind was I