Every single thing,
That considers itself wise,
Is fooled beyond words.

Tick tock, rise and shine, shake the whiskey from your eyes.
Close your mind and count to five, scream yoursELF A LULLABY.

Walk along the sunlit street, and listen to the birds.
Listen to the angels and their softly spoken words.
Listen to the sound of wind across a grassy knoll,
But don't listen to the hole.
It's time to smell the roses, and the little daffodils,
It's time to smell the smell of your dad's burger on the grill.
Why don't you go outside and enjoy a pleasant stroll?
Just don't listen to the hole.
Because the closer that you get, to this hole inside the ground,
The more that you will hear the most horrific of all sound,
It's the sound of every evil thing that lives inside your soul,
So don't listen to the hole, please don't listen to the hole.

I am the eyes above the city.
I can see the businessmen and budding actors, scampering like rats through a forgotten maze, and hear the clacking of their shoes on the concrete.
I am the eyes above suburbia.
I can see the soccer moms and teenagers, drinking when no-one is watching because the stresses of their tiny worlds are too much.
I am the eyes above the countryside.
I can see the creatures of these places wander across a barren world, and I can smell the moonshine they come across at night.
I am the eyes above the world.
I can see the grand illusion, pulled across the mighty sphere of the Earth, and I feel nothing but joy as I abandon this place for another.

Run, hide, scream, despair,
Upon us comes an old nightmare.
Terror, weakness, gasp for air,
It's psychological warfare.
In the windows, yellow eyes,
Primal demons from the skies,
Parts of you that you despise,
Blotting out the red sunrise.
Snakes and spiders do kung-fu,
Boiling water raining too.
It's a dream, you're breaking through,
But the things you saw wake up with you.

Up is down and down is up,
Covering with their makeup.
Right is left and left is right,
Cower, run, before the light.

I love you.
Three words never caused so much pain.
Or joy. Yes, there was joy in them once,
But the two young, stupid people who said them are gone.
They are torn apart,
Stripped of their clothes,
And thrown in a cell with bars made of air,
The air in their lungs when they said those words,
I love you.
They would revel in each other,
Hold each other close.
Each was addicted to the soul of the other,
Without a thought to the withdrawal,
And that's where the headaches start.
I love you.
And this isn't a poem, it's a letter for you,
I pushed you away to push me into hell,
because that's what I was used to.
I'd adapted to fire, demons and sin,
and you are an angel.
I was afraid of your light, and of your grace,
because you are the reason I look on my face,
In mirror's and can't bring myself to say:
I love you.
I remember. I remember the curses and cookie dough,
I remember the blanket we dyed red with our blood,
I remember a beauty, a beast, and a princess bride,
I remember these things despite myself because,
I love you.
And so, if you read this, and I hope that you do,
Just know deep inside I am waiting for you,
Behind the stairs, or the old construction yard.
Oh Sophie, oh Sophie,
I love you.