There's a chip in the crystal ceiling
I can see it from there
Printing down shards of the outside world
Softly pushing among the dust

Light is flashing along the rust
Figures stood still  and  shadows whirled
A distinct smell of walls populates the air
And colours look unappealing

In a foreign land some silhouettes dancing
They keep bringing kids to the fair
and at some point the surroundings curled
In deeper dreams and further disgust