What drives a soul to twist?
Love of dark or fear of light
That makes a wish, a wish?
What turns a thought to act?
What makes an eye to blink?
Squinting eyes growing dry
Are we afraid to think?
What if we delve too deep?
What if we swim too far?
Shooting for the moon oft
Ends gasping 'mong the stars.
Is it the thought that bends
To let a man stay sane?
Or does bent thought make bent man,
And dare we ride that train?
Why does a soul grow cold?
So sinister does it twist.
Do we wish what we've turned?
Or do we turn what we wish?
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