Escape To Estonia

Here (or wherever I may be) there are empty carousels turning in spiders webs

In a cavernous interminable terminal of lost nothingness, where life surely ebbs

In this place and time I sense incoherent murmurings, that I know I cannot trust

As I remember death-mares echoing back, in the palls of choking ash and dust

For 'here' (wherever that may be) there's a whispering voice that makes me wilt

It intimates, with a familiar intonation, that my final fate is to be cocooned in silk

And there's no way away from preordination, for there's only Nowhere left to run

In this memory, of a purgatorial otherworld reverie, where odious webs are spun

Wherever I am 'now', I know it's not for me, I would rather face the devil's beast

On some other's mummified mind (on the fears they'll find), let the spiders feast

I can't kill what's dead, but with my imagination's figment, I will ride the carousel

And be borne into darkness, nightmares, or dreams, if not, I'm sure I'll be in Hell

Even in a death throes nightmare, there's still time to dream of that distant shore

Whispered murmurings of immortality drawing me back, to a time of once before

I awake for awhile beyond the interminable terminal, but in the state of catatonia

Where transcendent hallucinations reveal that I can make my escape to Estonia

I can see a moonlit sea, from high above, from a deserted deck of Tallinn's tower

For I'm finally 'here', where I've always been, in the coldest winter's, darkest hour

And nothing happens (and never will) for I'm faraway from the spiders silky webs

As eternity unfolds before me, even the dream of death and time, gradually ebbs