The Box

click click click click...

Mournful life is an empty dream that causes the soul's slumbers
And in each rest, the beats pull me closer
Closer to the box

click click click click...

In this box dipped in red, in which it calls home, I hear the Jack's song, a lullaby, a whisper, a calling
A song made for the tainted
An echo that enthralles the corrupt into the blissful agony of death's rest

click click click click...

Oh how real is the art spoken in the heart and yet in this beast, slowly wasting away, it's hearts are not it's own
For this beast locked in the box has no heart, no soul
Just a collection of something stolen from the past calling you to wait for the clicks to cease
Alone is wiltes until you come winding, until a new body comes to join the dark
And the grave song clicked away

click click click click...

And only sorrow in our destined way of darkness
Find us fleeting and our hearts like drums, beat the same repetition
A repetition
A calling
A song from the grave
The same tune clicks in preparation and hold the hearts of all, those who lost and those who will lose

click click click click...

Trust no past
They lie to the living
Beast within and it's great departing from the cage it calls home
The final click and you have lost as it's hunger and lonesome grows

Round and round the mulberry bush
The monster cashed the weasel
The weasel was nothing more but a new toy
Pop! Goes the weasel

It sings it's melancholy beat as it escapes hell
It's opens it's lid, cursing all around for the intoxicating clicks and it's simple song bring nothing but pain into the air
Leaving behind a new chorus of screams
The hearts, the souls they sing their cries and reach from their box onto a new companion

Round and round the cage I call home
The monster cases the weasel
The weasel thought to wind up my box
Pop! Goes the weasel

Towards you it stalks as it sings it's hyme
No clicks left to hold you in blissful submission
Nothing to wind up
Just the edged smile craved into skin
Skin and bones and nothing more of it's own
In the box, in which you have wound, holds
a monster of stolen hearts and stolen souls and the gluttony that is released with the final click

Round and round I sing my song
The monster kills the human
I ripped out it's heart and eat it's soul
Pop! Goes the human

Wasted away without nothing to hold, it kills and steals to the beat of it's song and calls new hearts to join
Oh what a lovely song it sings as it's rips hearts out, one that calls out to all souls to stay and join
It sings over cries and laughs over sobs for you are the one who wound the box
Temptation and desire guided the hand and the box will soon start clicking again
There is no end to the box just the agony of those who heard it's song
Just the beast who lay awake waiting for a new addition to the dark

Round and round the handle turns
Your blood paints my tomb
I have won and you are trapped
Pop! Goes the human

Perhaps another shall free the monster again
Let us, with any fate, learn to wait while we wind of tombs back up and crawl into the darkness and wait for another heart to come calling