The Trip — Nahemah

The archaic and heavy words from the stone age drag and lead me, to a mental city

Metropolis with streets, of rare smells where my steps become strange and sounds are tiny

A place where titanium lips kiss and cover my skin crumpled by the flogging of a rending sensuality

A place where they created Abraxas from ice and fire and they believe only what their eyes see

It's a glass ball viewing the future like a witch vomiting a nasty past and a wizard made of a lovely essence contaminates a wide and square mind

Sometimes when they find me there I'm present but in a million places lost looking for colossal forces to build the everlasting tears I have never dropped

As the piano notes, sound like a poisonous fluid this trip becomes sad, and fucking hard now the dream is not a quiet walk it is a pyramidal nightmare that lifts me to its zenith and throws me down because this false reality shows me the reason I'm in this town because this false reality shows me the reason I fell