There’s a strange paradise in this skyscraper
They’re in my impulses and I just want to forget
Where the excelled are accepted and my own
Writing naturally rejected, and there it is now
A strange paradise lurking about in my reality
Influencing my every dream but don’t wake me
No, don’t disturb the improvisation that is my
Skill like a 1,000 year old saw leaving its rusted
Root across 1 million years of putrid literature
No, don’t interrupt the passion despite its mind
Altering scenery, it will be chilled by the storm
That delivers the words to your comfortable lap
So you can collect them together while snapping
This creativity, born of this bizarre, trippy paradise.

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