A road paved to the centre,

a place I cannot get in,

where wickedness dwells,

souls are sold,

and sins sell,

proven within the arms of time,

polluting the stream of what is mine,

lost but found,

fake but given form,

a fevered dream woken from the snore of a life filled with boring ends to tired games,

we see the memories that came,

we feel the cuts as they seer the flesh,

a musical number,

the flames licking me,

what was the purpose,

who was I meant to be?