Oblivion owned to live  he had never seen his coffin  and what was made from there  he had never tasted his tears    Can we trespass now    Never dream again  cause this world became the dreams  surely he would wonder about his steps  would always remember the past    What past? Times...    (He would strive on and on  collecting his peace entangled  in crayons the most valuable of all)    Out of the dismal mist  covering the crown  he stands like a sculpture  in a flowered garden  black and enameled roses    Can this forsakened deem  lay its hand on the final grasp