Methocha
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Wandering deep into a mental endeavour
Through the windy kingdom of the mind
A river of thoughts from a thousand cold streams
Always presumed futile, never rational
No sense of direction or time
Starving for a flash of coherence
Worlds are born and die in an instant
What goes down in the mind, stays in the mind
Bizarre mirages and a rotten ambience
A study of the sinister and macabre
Visions unfold in unspeakable horror
Viva la esprit, viva la revolution
In moments the apparitions annihilate
Whatever gained is gone and stays gone
The dream is over and the ideas dead
The methocha consumes me, absorbs me
The dream is over and the ideas dead
The methocha consumes me, absorbs me