I woke with a start
Found myself within a forest dark,
With but a shade to guide me
The path long lost, I faced the looming hill
So far away.
The ghost motioned not to stay
Three withered steps
And the path behind a distant memory
A distant spark, midst winters breath
which misguided hope could never fan
Old, yellowed ghost, tearing the strings
from the puppet master's idle hands (at straws we clutch)
An empty glass,
pour out another of myself
Once more alas
the butchers bill remains unpaid
An empty gaze,
the mirror shakes its head in shame
The ghost departs
Beneath the shadow of the hill
A pointless path, midst winters breath
which misguided steps can never find
Old, yellowed ghost, abandoning
First lead the way, then simply leave it all behind
OH! There is no absolution
No grand epiphany left to fake
The old ghost had left me here for dead
Lo! There is no grand solution
Only the forward path to take
Towards the pinnacle blindly tread
Headlong to failure, no wisdom here to find
Ghost of the void
Belong to failure, give in to nothingness
Follow the void
Follow the ghost
Drown in the void
OH!! Abandon all hope ye who enter here!
Old, yellowed ghost, sever the strings
from the puppet master's broken hands

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