Solely roaming,
Solely flowing,
Slowly transcending,
Slowly ascending.

Where do those pretty wings belong?
On the sides of skulls.

Lifting our mind state,
Leading us
To the land of winged skulls.

There's a brain in a bowl who says so.

Only drifting
Behind gates with thee,
Receiving symbols.

Your eyes dilate,
Someone's head is hung over,
Bludgeoned by stones.

There's a brain in a bowl that says so.

Where do those pretty wings belong?
On the sides of skulls,

Lifting your mind state,
Leading you
To the land of winged skulls.

There's a brain in a bowl that says so.

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

(Originally written 10/27/10
Revised 9/27/14)