Sweet symphonic shades of blue
sweeping down the avenues.

Harsh melodic tones of red
running ramped in my head.

Green Lilly's floating in the pond
all of which the frogs are too fond.

White rabbits jump between the trees,
along side birds and bees.

Orchadia sits upon a swing singing
canorous tunes of spring.

Surrounded is a place where figments and imagination thrive.

Beyond the plastic walls is a place so dark and treacherous that true love doesn't exist.

Acrylic painted dolls sit and watch nightmares come to die, and dreams become corrupt.

The dollhouse is a place of naive joy and agony.

Rearranged piece by piece, changed and altered from the outside,
but the structure always remains the same.

revolving doors
that lead to hotel floors
drunken nights
and forgotten flights