Twice, they have done this to us.
They turned the world inside-out,
Exposing us to the blood-filled heat of magma
And the sun of the core.
We try to dig in, to bring ourselves out,
But the sky has inverted it's colors:
Black splotches on a dark red canvas.
So we endure the blood-filled heat of magma
Only to take the elevator up
To the core of the core.

A white, emotionless room.
Blinding lights in the color of black.
A new voice.
"The Has Been has chosen you;
You shall now be left."

We mean nothing more in the room of white
So we go back to the edge of the inside.

They have turned the world inside-out once again.
We are locked inside.