Prophecy

Prophecy from the phantom knights
Drop dead as can a heart filled with gold
What to do? Golden hearts don’t beat
And the heart can’t that’s of flesh
Don’t understand what goes in lights
Comes out of darkness in black and dead

Recon the lights from scariest sweet dreams
Be with the magical ethical serpent’s slave
Wish with the neo-psycho rare alien
Couldn’t continue furthermore insane
Wet dreams on fountain rain at all no ease

Could it be true? Could it be a dream?
Could I ever rejoice in this strain?
Could this be dream when I wake up someday?
Or could this be a nightmare when I wake up today?
Screaming at nights or death on funeral pile?

Nothing else matters when this book is washed
With waters that seldom falls from two portraits
Even those portraits sometimes soaked up sometimes
Says their story silently to the colors that flows seldom
Or could this be an unending nightmare in perfect harmony?