Yeah
Not from this world, not from reality, enlightenment unfolds
Face the lurking fear, await the crimson king that once dwelt here
Lovecraft, king, marques, golding
Take us all to distant lands
Through wicked seas, storms and darkness
To the shores of the shell, doors and glass
Wilde, cornwell, hesse, hawking
Give me your vision
Grant me your sight
Into event horizon's singularity at the speed of light
Live a hundred years into the tentacles of solitude
Working for the victory in the ministry of truth
Written in flesh, written to life, written to death
Written in rhymes
Burnt into the books of blood
Written to life
Yeah
Wear the one ring, become black thirteen, fly the three eyed crow
Territory lilies unveils the sound of the deafening bells
Bradbury, moore, martin, tolkien
Spawn new life at the edge of a knife
Drown into the eternal sea, while violence spreads through the night
Live a hundred years into the craziness of wonderland
Working in the oatley tap until the flagg sweeps away
Lost for countless years into the blindness of pan’s labyrinth
Traveling with the heart of gold, searching for the stories untold
Live a hundred years into the tentacles of solitude
Working for the victory in the ministry of truth
Written in flesh, written to life, written to death
Written in rhymes, cursed by he who walks behind the rows (behind the rows)
