In winters rarest bitter
Before the failing of the light
We search for significance
Far sweeter than pleasure
Yet, never frostbitten
By the freezing of the night
We hunt until daybreak
Ever deeper for the treasure
I cannot show you the foreboded corridor
But I assure you I have walked it before
On a jagged line between sanest thoughts
For a way out of madness is often fought
One's reality is a tether binding
Relatively fixed into a position
Much like a staircase winding
Only its twisted to fit a new disposition