Where do the Monsters Go?
Men are scared and flee from what they do not understand
But I am acquainted with enigmatic beings who hold sinister demands
How do we know for certain that our senses aren't blind—
To what monster creeps behind the corner with corruped mind?

Everything could be a dream, a figment of our imagination
If we were sceptics of our senses we'd neglect every right perception
What about the monsters that dwell inside our halls
They'd disappear without trace by the limitaion of minds' walls?

© Karl the Disturbed