The Shadow of the Mind

Everybody is dead,
Is what He said before.
Mindless zombie vessels,
Lingering without soul.

They just think they live,
An optic illusion.
They just think they breath,
While there is no air in space.

There is no paper I write on,
I write in the upper air.
No chair I sit on,
It just isn't there.

So real this illusion is,
Created by the mind.
It loves to create pictures,
And He destroys it in His might.

This illusion ain't my world,
Zombies and demons are not my friends.
All I have left is Nyarlathotep,
My Soul-Mate to the End...

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The Shadow of the Mind