A Dream of Fire
Prosthetic Orchestra
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In a bed made of cinders
Littered with glassy paper photographs
A locket recalls from slumber
Unaware of a coming blast...
Nothingness, sweet nothingness
Another of my dreams are haunting me
All that could have been of what is left
A thorn in my side tearing at me
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"Eyes are left shut as it ensues
When they open, a rain of fire brews..."
Helpless, in a vacant room
From a shadow, in the kiss
Influencing their desire
In like a crawl, truth from a liar
Nothingness, sweet nothingness
Another of my dreams are haunting me
All that could have been of what is left
A thorn in my side tearing at me