Screaming off the Cliff

Wonderland

But you are not Alice,

and this isn't Wonderland.

You know of the darkness

like the back of your hand.

You remember the whispers,

you sing of the ghosts.

And it's of your profession

that the devil does boast.

Because you work for the shadows,

you hide away from the light.

You're a slave to blackness

and a thief in the night.

You're so quiet in the morning,

so defenceless a creature.

And the shields in your mind

are getting weaker and weaker.

Because you are not Alice,

and this isn't Wonderland.

And you know of the darkness...

like the back of your hand.