A proud disease indeed forgot its home,
Attacked its cherished shelves;
Inflicting flames upon its tomes.

A child swore to slay the host,
But his ageless mind has grown old,
and shapeless face has new hope.

This world he's always known with costly stones lay burried now beneath the singing strings,
And under the sea within these winding keys,
Leaving my steely prayers opposed!

This world I've always known has tarnished under a toxic pearly gate,
These songs I've come to hold corrupted by this poisoned shape.
As stillness kills, I must escape!

My armless form enclosed,
As my skyward craft arose.

This music box aglow with hate!
Screaming a tune to fix my broken fate!
I am contained.

This music box,
That beat my rocket tame.