Welcome back the the asylum
This cold grey place where nothing dwells
Except my clock of cogs and gears
That counts out my numbered years

Peaceful as it may be here
Still I'm tempted to crawl out
Into the black forest beyond
To probe whatever mysteries
Await the outward bound

Somewhere back there in the thicket
Winding underbrush
There is an answer to everything
Kept quite hidden and hushed

But as I sit and contemplate
Who planted the first seed
The tendril vines are growing
Choking out the trees
Beyond which
A charred and ruined landscape
Is all there's left to see