Post by chillblain on May 7, 2007 0:25:43 GMT -6
Welcome to the Land of Hollow Dreams,
where the innocent and the faithful
are summarily eaten for breakfast,
lunch and dinner. A place where
fantasy and fantastical lies and lines
reign and rule, not and never the jewels
of honesty, integrity and love...
Rare commodities are these gems
in the valley of vapidity and villiany...
Regarde vous the characters
that loiter and loll about
the phantasmagorical plaza.
You might see someone you know!
Or you might see shades of moi, toi and the rest.
Each face a doppleganger or a ringer of a doppleganger.
The musty funk of a masquerade ball
ribbons in thick rivers below the surface.
Those representing themselves as angels
of light, openess and love, flapping their wings
in a most ostentatiously gilded manner
are generally angst riddled, spiritless demons
in disguise as tortured human souls.
Everyone knows, human souls do not inhabit
the Land of Hollow Dreams. Because they are eaten.
Sometimes alive. Only the souless dare tred there.
Manifesting lurid fantasy, not and never
spinning honesty or reality, much less care.
Reality isn't a concept in the land of the cursed
and the damned...Games and games
upon games, played without remorse
or shame are the order of the sun
blasted days and the moon ridden
nights spent in flights of fantasy
that go everywhere and nowhere
in the Land of Hollow Dreams,
where commoners cavort like kings
and fey doxies dance like the ladies
they aren't til the reality fuzz raids
the place and closes down the sleepeasy
built by a mad hatter and passed off
as an ancient palace of unconditional love
in it's simplest sublimity, another Land of Hollow Dreams.
In actuality, a palace not dedicated to one and one alone,
but to house an entire hare'em of concubines
some clawing and tearing at one another
in their vain attempts to be magically
transmorgriphed into a metaphorical queen.
And of what? The Land of Hollow Dreams?
Each not the first, nor neccessarily the last
to believe they are more rare than the one before
in a land of hollow dreams where commoners
cavort like kings and fey doxies dance
like the ladies they aren't behind
masks of open faced duplicity.
Welcome to the Land of Hollow Dreams.
I am your narrator and your usher.
Grab your popcorn, soda and candy bars.
And please be seated the show is about to begin.
where the innocent and the faithful
are summarily eaten for breakfast,
lunch and dinner. A place where
fantasy and fantastical lies and lines
reign and rule, not and never the jewels
of honesty, integrity and love...
Rare commodities are these gems
in the valley of vapidity and villiany...
Regarde vous the characters
that loiter and loll about
the phantasmagorical plaza.
You might see someone you know!
Or you might see shades of moi, toi and the rest.
Each face a doppleganger or a ringer of a doppleganger.
The musty funk of a masquerade ball
ribbons in thick rivers below the surface.
Those representing themselves as angels
of light, openess and love, flapping their wings
in a most ostentatiously gilded manner
are generally angst riddled, spiritless demons
in disguise as tortured human souls.
Everyone knows, human souls do not inhabit
the Land of Hollow Dreams. Because they are eaten.
Sometimes alive. Only the souless dare tred there.
Manifesting lurid fantasy, not and never
spinning honesty or reality, much less care.
Reality isn't a concept in the land of the cursed
and the damned...Games and games
upon games, played without remorse
or shame are the order of the sun
blasted days and the moon ridden
nights spent in flights of fantasy
that go everywhere and nowhere
in the Land of Hollow Dreams,
where commoners cavort like kings
and fey doxies dance like the ladies
they aren't til the reality fuzz raids
the place and closes down the sleepeasy
built by a mad hatter and passed off
as an ancient palace of unconditional love
in it's simplest sublimity, another Land of Hollow Dreams.
In actuality, a palace not dedicated to one and one alone,
but to house an entire hare'em of concubines
some clawing and tearing at one another
in their vain attempts to be magically
transmorgriphed into a metaphorical queen.
And of what? The Land of Hollow Dreams?
Each not the first, nor neccessarily the last
to believe they are more rare than the one before
in a land of hollow dreams where commoners
cavort like kings and fey doxies dance
like the ladies they aren't behind
masks of open faced duplicity.
Welcome to the Land of Hollow Dreams.
I am your narrator and your usher.
Grab your popcorn, soda and candy bars.
And please be seated the show is about to begin.
