Did you get that gift I sent from the island that rests right outside my brain?
Separate from my world.
Where the trees are all on fire and the lake is boiled blood.
And there's only half a man afraid of everything.
I'm so sorry to have woke you with these thoughts of never waking again.
But did you get that gift I sent to you from the island of the burning trees?
On that island in the sand stands a wounded man.
Holding only one last hope from the treasure he once had.
Bottled up and mostly broke he throws across the synapse sea.
Hoping one day to hit land where he knows he'll sleep in peace.