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Deserted, and fallen from grace…
I witness tenacious vines ascend upon this hallowed place.
Forfeiture, of lycanthropic desire…
You cut back your hedges to pave your labyrinthine empire.

You light your lanterns when your smog blots out the sun,
Only a platitude of an enterprise that's overrun.
And you willingly give the keys to your cell, like you've never known freedom,
or you're cast within a fiendish spell.

You… dying spirit!
You're a king of realms that no longer exist.
And you will never find me within.
I spit upon the hand that would enslave.

Enslaved, myopia sets in -
A coping mechanism, to forget the chains you've been bound in.
Though the cries of your inner voice is heard.
Lift up your eyes, servant! And consider the birds.

Can you feel the pulse in your hands?
Can you get out of your head?
Can you kick the door before you?
Can you find the sun again?

…Turning away from winter's might…
… Transcending hearth, becoming light…

Celebrate the fertile mind.
Harvest the most out of your fleeting human time.

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