In the tower of isolation,
Nothing is as it seems.
The walls are thick with nightmares,
While reality is locked away
Deep inside a musty dungeon.
Rocking, rocking, quite deranged.
Scratching at the walls, so coarse,
Please chip away these nightmares.
Fragments fall and circulate,
As they breathe, they breathe, they breathe . . . .
Throughout the air, throughout this life,
A shelter of disorder,
This tower stands alone,
And slowly crumbles inward
As it makes itself reborn.