The son of a skeleton does not confide,
With each and every line I write inside,
When the death of the eyes is asked,
I cannot answer with anything but a rasp.

Times two, times three,
Watch very carefully,
As we all pay the fee,
To ask a life of more than being-
I leave- not free-

"Introspect" I tell my frame, who couldn't really care less,
I will try and stare through the mesh,
Which seems to mask the mess,
On the ground the son was sown,
He grew and grew until be became stone.

Equals two, Equals three,
Minus four, Minus five,
The son of a skeleton,
Is shot full of sedative,
Is this definitive?

White river calmly flows,
Her sudden moves never too wild,
Along come the people that she tows,
In retrospect, I should have appreciated the mild.

Along the trail, I'll follow the stones,
If anything's true I won't break my arm,
With the things inside my bones,
Things I collected keep me warm.

And the trees become so green,
The moss on the rocks take the sunlight,
Where have I gone and where have I been?
It's been so long since I've fought the fight.

Along the trail, I'll follow the stones,
If anything's true I won't break my arm,
With the things inside my bones,
Things I collected keep me warm.

Kindle this fire,
Feed it with moss,
Singe all your body's hairs,
It's the only way to learn.

Rearrange this damaged root,
That sits at my feet in defeat,
I want to see it grow without the soot,
Slowly becoming stale from this seat.

Pour some acid into those eyes,
It's time to forage for souls tonight,
Don the wolf mask by your side,
Oh, Warren my boy, you've made it thus far.

Walk through graveyards and find your mind,
For it's as empty as your very own coffin,
Hide behind trees and bright green bushes,
The ghost boy is haunting 'bout this time.

His hollow dark eyes and shallow sunken chest,
The suit on his frail skin is much too large,
Ghost boy can't be bother to trip to a tailor,
Just be glad you can't see what's underneath.

For the dark hollow eyes are a mask of disguise,
And the darkness of the suit holes scares even the ebony of the sky,
Don't doubt his name- and don't scout his dens,
Warren, I must say, you're not as safe as you were anymore.

Don the leather coat that sits near the stone,
You've got to find home,
For ghost boy has ways to make you jump right out of your grotesque little mask,
He doesn't want friends,
Only something to feed.

Pour some acid into those eyes,
It's time to forage for souls tonight,
Don the wolf mask by your side,
Oh, Warren my boy, you've made it thus far.