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You're the spiral stile up over the gate,
you're the alchemist's poison just lying in wait,
you're the anaesthesia fleeing from the surgical blade,
as I lie there, voiceless, completely awake.

How deep fear does go; am I to follow?
When look what hope brought upon us
(and you have the one chance to save us).

You're the silent film star aging in grace,
all alone, with no one, who knows where you've fallen.
As you lie there, gorgeous, hiding your face.

You're the spiral stile up over the gate,
you're the walls of the graveyard preventing escape,
you're everything I dream about that keeps me awake.

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