The Forest of hidden desires
Where you enter at your own risk
Where we throw away what we crave for
What comes back from the forest is a walking shell
Where you enter at your own risk
Where we throw away what we crave for
Where we abandon our love children
The babies grow up alone and turn to monsters
The longer we don’t visit them, the angrier they get
And then you go to see them
It’s your own hidden baby that attacks you
And rips your throat out
And you die in unspeakable pain
What comes back from the forest is a walking shell
Made of habit and entropy
