For an overthinking mind,
There has got to be a place,
In an unoccupied dimension.
Where time, a currency that pays

The greed of unsatisfied souls.
City lights veining along the shores
Of fresh dreams yet to come.
The seed of conscience lost underground.

Where the rose of doubt blooms.
And as her petals unfolds,
Darkness will seep to the core,
A kind of ecstasy curling the mind.

For the unknown empire that has seen no pages,
has been living through the history of time,
For I've succumbed into darkness,
Past the point of no return.