A place where he calls his words...

As I walked down the hallway
Sweet tuxedo black
Reliving dreams from
Nights he dreams

He lived happily
In the barnyard blue
Making it the perfect truth

He recalled it mystery true
From the depths
He weeping waking begins
A tormented soul

Growling to the ghosts from his history
He acts like its
A foremost turmoil
An awakening from the depths

As he sits
Making a bitter truth role
From the very tormented soul
A crack at the very second time again
To begin the travel back into time again

He rests with his jolted harpoon
To catch the unknown truth
As we yawns to the unspoken weep
The martyr he is

For his cries seek the unheard ear
As he walks past every unmasked deer
Making a path unseen
Making no one it seems

Me, says what he speaks his mind
To none he thinks it’s unsung
Wandering across the scorching sun
A desert where he saw the hissing gun

Now he breaths the same reptile
A momentary laps, burst of silence
He makes himself a half hung craft
As he walks beside his lost empire
He keeping away from the unearthed
The missing mask he curses weep
To a place he most recalls
A place where he
Calls his heart…