in the highlands, on top of a hill
it sits like a castle of broken will
closed for years, it's occupied still
by lowly souls who are unfulfilled

the chains and shackles redeem their pain
they rattle with rusty dying moans
the empty corridors scream in vain
these tortured souls are still alone

the ***** tables and ****** straps
can no longer hold the desperate minds
misery and death, in human traps
hands can't pray when tied in binds

they scream their stories into my ear
they show the scenes to my crying eyes
ghosts of doom, torture, and fear
stuck in between, where angels never fly

in the highlands, on top of a hill
it sits like a castle of broken will
closed for years, it's occupied still
by lowly souls who are unfulfilled