The Shadows of Slumber

The music of death is only interrupted by the beat of the clock's heart,
the beat bearing life to the folly of a tired fool's mind like abstract art.

Shadows rise from thier secret slumber,
scratching the walls of the mind.
The rise and fall of empires then pass,
and still man is more than blind.

God's gift is given again to silence and shock the shadows.
The melting away in the light of day is more than just some foreshadows.

Dreams are more than the waking eye may see, so says one man.
But when one's dream is just real life, that's where the madness began.