The man who painted his dream,
He gave me nightmares, took my sleep,
I wonder if he ever got out of the Labyrinth,
I wonder if he was ever happy.
The beauty here is distorted, but beauty nonetheless,
The clock is liquid in my hands.
“Where is the way out of this Labyrinth?”
I asked the Pope, he who worships the Almighty,
He smiled with cold eyes and said,
“My child, you mistaken this pain for Purgatory”
(Inspired by the quote from Looking For Alaska.)