Grasping in the dark cold hands The voiceless phantom mythed in torn pages of a decomposing tome The pages wither like burned flowers in a summer drought They fall into dust While questions arise in perpetual wanderlust... Of unanswered questions and empty gestures Mandrake saviors and eyes sewn shut This living in fear Fear of freedom Fear of letting go... of things The novice angel's somber strings... Golden gates and choirs of angels sing praises to a heavenly host who's overlooked in arrogance the true majesty of the world There is no God in buildings This divisive, cunning method of control Ignorance. Oblivion. Ungratefulness and greed Forever wanting more when the table buckles from building plates so over filled with the beauty of this world Death is my final gift The leaves that fall nourish the soil with their decomposition and the oak will feed from itself again... And the world thrives Relish the wilderness There are no forests in your Heaven There are no forests in your Heaven There are no forests in your Heaven There are no forests in your Heaven Because Heaven is within