My fingers slide across ancient pages
Flipping mindlessly through the ages
And I can't help but tremble in the rage
That has long-since locked man into his cage

Words are wavering voices portrayed in ink
That allow one to float or to further sink
Into a mindset where one can only think
About how well then and now remain in sync

See, I love indulging myself in the unrealistic
The arbitrary plots that may seem a bit sadistic
Furthermore, I'm a "so-called" mystic
Who has an uncanny fondness of the surrealistic

So, empathy and mercy are out of the question
For, I face all challenges with an unyielding aggression
That applies to not only one's overall impression
But to that emotion which forces a mind into depression

I ignore the hostile words that are silently spoken
The fragile hearts of my friends that are steadily broken
Because I'm just a spirit that's unwilling to be woken
Into a world where the afterlife becomes one's precious token

Who would want to live in such a sad, sorry way
Surrounded by people who've got nothing better to say
Other than whether they're going to leave or to stay
In retrospect, well, that makes it all seem just plain and gray

That's why I often find myself here
Be it the result of loneliness, uncertainty, or even fear
This is the one place I can always disappear
And construct my own world that's always crystal-clear

So yeah, I guess you could say I'm a fool
Many may think that I'm really uncool
But, why should I care about the dissatisfaction of tools
The universe is my sanctum, and imagination my school