A secret from beyond the grave.
Lights out, another dimension in time.
Blast off, the past coming to life in a cemetery’s shockwave.

And as we slave away, the ghosts will have their say.

Sometimes I awake to find the lights on,
but then they flicker like an invisible song.
A morse code? Maybe this is how Lovecraft and Poe
started to show us the darker side of the world.
Don’t forgot about Bloch, he taught us the Psycho
that lies within us all.
Haven’t you ever written a poem?
Or ever listened to music alone?
And those are just metaphors for scores of mindfucks
that our brains throw.

Some of us scream from our lungs through our throat,
out of the mouth, waves of Let’s Go!

There is only one secret, and it is based off a recent
discovery of a blatant, frequent, ancient realization.
We are slaves to the universe.
Religion is just a transformation to an escape artist.
No one knows what lies beyond the stars, just a lot of speculation.
We haven’t even reached the edge of our own galaxy or touched the vacuum of the vastness of space, light lost in a black hole.
So the next time you look up to the sky,
think, ponder, visualize,
as the stars mesmerize.

And the truth is whispered into her ears,
“You are not alone, my dear.”

The secret from the beyond the stars is the same as the ones at our funerals (x2)
What’s next?
Wait – the secret is just another question without an answer?
Excuse me; I need more time to think about my future.