What is this before me?
Ever so colourful and bright,
And yet dark as night?
To my left, it starts to shimmer
As a swan floats through a river.
What is this illusion, that causes a feeling to cry?
Is it actually a projection inside of my eye?
The colours spin, the lake stops to shimmer,
Now a feeling so cold I start to shiver.
A thousand knives
To snatch a thousand lives,
Is this a dream or a nightmare?
And then I saw
In shock and awe
What the world for many was like.
The feeling of desperation
Mixed with my burning bright imagination
Restored my previous view once more,
And everything was colourful and bright
And the swan drifted down the river.
But as I looked back into the dark holes
Of the pleading, dying souls
I decided to let them free.
I gave them a part of my eye,
My colourful, bright imagination
And the dream of being like a swan swimming down a river.
With one eye lost
I knew the cost
For I returned the poor victims their vision.