A sort poem I wrote based on "Paranoid: A Chant" by Stephen King. |
Dreamer I dream of missing faces Eyes too blind to see themselves I dream of lost races They kept breathing after their lungs were gone Who tells them the old one’s secret fantasies Twisted around me like a snake on my neck Nobody left to pray Their gods worshipped themselves I dream the nothing dream Sick and mutilated, they still come I dream I can’t feel my rage Screaming at you, we are one Writing all the secrets down His book is black with ink No one left to stop him now No one left to think No one left to feel this way Why should you care anyway I dream of dead gods Tracing the scars on their bodies Tells a story, like a book So many keys they never took So many stars, can’t seem to look She’s made of bits and pieces Put together with old needles and stitches Break the bottle in your hand Can’t seem to think, can’t understand I dream of summer shores And autumn leaves of gray I can’t help but wonder why It has to be this way You be the shepherd I’ll bring the knives Let’s try to figure out What cattle took our lives Blood in the air Blood in the ground Blood’s gonna tell you Just what you have found On top of my mountain I’m king of my pain Inside of my fortress Is where I’m ashamed Time’s running out now I have to be quick I’ll make you see Through the eyes of a lunatic |