When is one not dreaming, a sense we all trust, to defer reality from illusion, when will we know. If our dreams, feel all to real, could we be dreaming, and illusions are real, Dreaming for eternity.

The world percieved, simulated, dreaming our own death, we awake with the truth, they try to interprept, our reality, but their minds are far to weak, they'll never know our true strength again.

In the specter of dreams, the false will wake up, but the true will know, this is all just a great dream.

One day true reality will be seen, and it will be known.

They thought they could lie and dream, night after night, but one day they will awake, and they will know.

We will never wake, they will never dream, we will always sleep, in the specter of dreams.

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