Those dreams of tomorrow are gone
The future was but a mistaken shadow
The fire burns ashes into this oken wall
It is now a trip, for me, through this black forest
Blacker, blacker, black the forest becomes
Lost, I am, in these living forests of ebony
Blackened trunks wall the muddy trails
A hall I journey into, nowhere to turn
I make my way down this endless tunnel
The living trees close the path behind me
Darker, darker, dark the tunnel goes
The further I venture, the less I may see
The trees reach their limbs to halt my path
The trees curl their roots to trip my step
When will this end? Is freedom an option for me?
Or do I lay down and die like the bodies before me?
Harder, harder, hard it is to trek these woods
Only black before me and only black behind
Here I sit, in this blackened hall of trees
Here, I'm alone, in this toil of misery
Here, I drink alone. Drown my sorrow
Here I cry, unheard by friendly ears
Here I scream, unknown by any man
Here I sit, in the Forests Of Ebony...
This is how I would describe my social anxiety. I end up alone, trapped within my own mind.