Gaslight Ghosts

Within the crooked streets I stray, Where gaslight ghosts still mark the way. A hollow gaze, a hollow name, Bound to the stage of someone’s game. The jagged roofs, my fractured mind, Where sanity’s thin threads unwind. I am the marionette of my own design My hands carve wounds through flesh and spine Dark compulsions pulse, I claim my throne Your breath turns cold, your will is stone The somnambulist stirs in me A face of stone, no one can see My carnival of fear unfurls As truth's reflection darkly swirls The town's facade, a brittle shell My twisted logic casts its spell I am the marionette of my own design My hands split flesh, expose the spine Dark compulsions pulse, I claim my throne Your breath turns cold, your will is stone Angles contort against nature's law I paint reality with a fevered claw Beneath tilted rooftops, minds collapse As nightmares form in daylight's gaps The cabinet door stands slightly ajar Releasing horrors that travel far My fingers twitch with each command While broken puppets roam the land I am the marionette of my own design My hands split flesh, expose the spine Dark compulsions scream, I claim my throne Your breath turns cold, your world undone Lyrics: Cheshirah