I'm striped inside
from the ambiance of your love
out of the dark conclaves I digress
shadows merely block the experience
we seek to honor the dead
faces filled with lead
the plausible quest to a happy encounter
instead we foster feelings of hidden ambiance
does love really exist or are we here all alone
love is the truest essence of my mere existence
Perhaps this is the land where Nero tread
still we dig much deeper then ever before
a given chance at which to explore
what hurts you the most down deep inside
four walls that block my faced exterior
the mystery lies beneath the sod I tread
a Peyton place with the walking dead