Upon your knees
The unseen shackles apparent
A millstone around the neck
Iron chains upon your shoulders
Bind you to insidious simulacrum
To doctrines unfounded
I reach down to you
There are no chains
No shackles
But our pained voices resonate
Never to be heard
My strength not enough
To wrench pious knees from the wooden floor
In unreality
The prison is real
The bars are as iron
And the walls as concrete
For the architect lives
And he is you
The dictator lives
And his statue bears your chisel marks
Self-appointed guardian
Within the crumbling cerebral prison
The skies within reach
But they burn at the touch
Light pirouettes across the stone floors
Of your damp sanctuary
But the eyes of the votary too weak
And unwilling to see
The crimes are real
And the sin churns within
This cell is where you belong
All seeing eyes burn your flesh
Deep into the night
There is no relief
But this is needed
I am impure
Yet in the oppression of iron and stone
Solace is found trickling down the cold walls
The skies beyond are so empty
The trees and mountains so hollow and thoughtless
The distances between so vast and remote
The path beyond these screaming walls
Is winding and overgrown
Without guidance I shall lose my way
Here I stay
Here I want to stay
Here I must stay
