They say that the moment you enter heaven: you'd see light,
It has not been so long since I've seen a shed of something bright.
With a ****** feet, walking down this street which feels like an oval,
Have I been here before? Maybe yes, maybe no.
It's like an endless journey through every portal--no matter where I go.
A repetitive memory remains in this rusty old mind of mine,
It's a face of a man who's silently watching me pass by.
Is this familiar face from my father? Who's now hiding a smile.
Every time I try to think harder, the more my head aches.
Is this some kind of a sign as to why my heart breaks?
Dead leaves fall faster, raining me with their misery.
Sudden cries from different miles, as if to tell their history.
Shadows and shadows seem to engulf upon each other,
Electric chairs, guillotines and gallows scatter everywhere.
Running into an abandoned house, I ran for the stairs.
Why do they all appear familiar? Have I been here before?
Looking down, I walk-run through the infinite dark corridors.
Poppa always said that when lost: always turn right.
But why doesn't anything changes when I turn my sight?
Uncertainty has turned the calm in me into a fright.
And so I told myself for the next turn: I'd go left.
The curve was nearing, and the floor starts to get all set.
It was quicksand on living carpet, and poison in thin air.
There's a door, no, a hatch. And as I enter, I just stared.
My white walls, white toys and white bed all painted blood red.
There's a man on the bed fixated on a little girl's lifeless body--naked.
I took a step back and stepped on shards of glasses that yells struggle.
The man suddenly took form of a monster, slowly looking above his shoulder.
It was déjà vu, it was everything under my skin, it was all like just before.
The hatch threw wildly open, ******* everything it can and make it go.
Know when they say that the truth shall set you free?
It probably hasn't worked yet its magic on me.
In here, time is endless and darkness can see.
And by the time I remember everything all over again,
I'd be still the same lost little girl: daydreaming of heaven.