A moment frozen in time.
An expression frozen forever.
A memory lasting longer than yourself.
An image worth a thousand words.
An image bringing a hundred expressions.
Photograph

From the blood on your wrist.
You draw a door in the mist.
In the small town far from New York.
Where there are trees and trees and trees some more.
In the small town far from New York.

It only works if they let you in.
The ones who have finished their stories choose to open the door with a twisted grin.
They always have a purpose to let you win.
But you never win, you can tell in their twisted grins.

At least 2 must be there.
One to go there and one to go nowhere.
The one to go in must be ready for nightmares.
The one to go nowhere must but be ready for pain they can't bare.

There are bridges in the form of certain people instead.
But don't think you're a tourist and think you can leave when you want to go home and it's time for bed.
You can visit a bar and ask for information ahead
But if you can't find a bridge, you're stuck, mess with the stories and you're dead.

But this is where you get stuck.
Unless you have intense good luck.

Althea lives all the way.
She's old and crazy but the spinner won't let her die anyways.
Travel like Alice it'll only be a day.
A day in the halfway
is 2 days in the real world okay?

Don't go seeking fairyland
Because you will age immensely in that magical dark woodland.
Don't go seeking fairyland
Because you won't be able to leave until the spinner says you can.

What if there's a door that's always sitting there.
The surface is bare.
And it carries a mysterious air.
No matter what people do to the door that just sits there.
The next morning the door is always repaired.

Something so curious like the door.
Everyone finds it a bore.
After all it's just a boring old door.
After seeing the damage disappear you would think people would write lore.
But the door isn't interesting, the door is a bore.

The door's been places.
The door has guarded libraries full of bookcases.
The door has seen everything from schools to fireplaces.

Whenever the place, the door has been goes away,
the door is always there insistent to stay.
But eventually the door gets found and gets transported away.

The door doesn't change.
The door is always a door but no one thinks it's strange.
But the door moves from place to place.
No one knows where or which door frame the door will choose as a base.

I'd like to say that I'm a good person.
I'd like to say that I'm always calm and cool
I'd like to say that I always know what I'm doing
I'd like to say that my opinion on life isn't cruel.

I'd like to say that I'm a creative person
I'd like to say that I can sew.
I'd like to say that I'm good at anything I try but
But if I do,
Everything I'd had said would be a lie.

I'd like to say that I'm popular
I'd like to say that I feel like I fit in with my friends.
I'd like to say that I'm not a fool.

I'd like to say that I'm a good person.