a new fascination comes over me
like rain pouring down
truth is a vision for prophets and madmen
to hide in paintings of virgin sacrifices
we are all just poor art critics
misinterpreting the answers
to fit these questions we struggle with
this shivering feeling carries me away
to land of childhood fancy
were i crossed mountains
in search of a treasure
i could call my very own
a chest filled with so much more
than my mediocre dreams
the sharpened teeth of despair
became a rabid dog ripping my flesh
the sweet taste of my teenage fantasies
drove it to an unstoppable frenzy
yet with this heartbreak surrounding me
i still searched for a treasure
just one a little softer and warmer
than these nights of playing make believe
in the middle of yet another treasure quest
pain arrests me, i drop to my knee
life simply fading into nothing
the echoes my last words falling
on this sea of dreams
my heart unable to go on
i sink into void
truth is for prophets and madmen
to the rest of us it remains a hidden treasure
even poets
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