the bones of the doors in some parallel worlds,
I take hold and swing but then they fall apart,
to fly toward dimensions I never suspected.
the leaves of the heart where you've never trespassed
fold open just like a mechanical clock,
all gears and cylinders driven by time.
it's too late when the bones disperse,
it's too late when the clocks stop talking-
caught in the wake of something immense.
help me wake up, I’ve been sleeping too long.
help me wake up, we’ve been sold for a song.