Who were you, you who lay
On that drab slab of stone?
A motionless victim of your
Paranoid world.
Did you ever find THAT key?
The key that unlocks the unstable
Door to mind's true reality.
A reality hidden in a swirling
Maelstrom of color rich dreams;
Which fade in and out of sight of
The watchful mind's eye.
An eye which brooks no individual
Choice or pattern of thought;
The paranoid eye with a thousand yard stare.
So sleep my young brother and care
No more; for your life is ended now;
And your dreams of illusion are spent.
Your bankrupt memory bank, caused by
A mind tax on your empty existence;
That nobody so bereft of imagination
Should ever have to bear.
