---

The walls are damp
and reeks of fear
and forever the thought-wheels grind
in the dwelling you've come to love and hate
The Black Cathedral of your Mind

You anticipate
You calculate
You sniff and prod
You search for God
And sometimes your dreams
are not what you seem
as the though-wheels grind
In the Black Cathedral of your Mind

The walls are tired and grey and dead
and forever the thought-wheels grind
in the dwelling you've come to love and hate
The Black Cathedral of your Mind

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