Coming back, coming back;
Like a flash of a cat,
As a pool shimmering slight,
Shaking me into fright—

And all is black, all is black,
Curling as a finger cracked,
Broken pieces, merge together,
Image floats in as a feather,

Pouring chalice in my head
Splashing senses, waking dead
Things to life, and rising high,
Sunshine piercing through this eye,

Shifting memory long gone by,
Splitting stone, breaking ground,
Snout snuffling as a ghoulish hound,
Worming things being harried

By the terror of the buried;
Slake this thirst I must hurry!
To the core, to the center;
To the forgotten, I do enter;

A chill in spine lead me down,
Into a long abandoned town;
Towers tilting tall as smokestacks;
All is coming back, coming back. coming back. back.