Volcanic islands emerge in the center of the sea
Formed by fire and rock
Soon the growth arrives
And the grass encompasses everything
But in truth this is not the truth
This is but a lie they told
Turn on your television sets
Let the images float into your brain
And pass right back through
Like a ghost who can not hold himself up with a wall
As the same structure falls upon him
It's not too late to scream for sanctuary
Surely someone can help you through,
But let us not be hasty
There are still islands in the sky
That's what the doctor told me
When he said I was suffering from lies
They are formed by rain and air
They are not sound structures,
But neither is my mind.
No comments:
Post a Comment