The World; His Antfarm ABBY

Sleeping in a slumber i have slept since time began;
and shifting through my fingers like the hourglass shifts sand,
are the thoughts we've all been thinking, for since tasting of her fruit
the knowledge we've been drinking is the death of tender youth.

and drifting through the folds of time she finds herself intwined,
within the reel of tape she cant stop playing in her mind.
As if some higher power laughs while she stumbles in the maze
that He Himself has trapped her in to wander all the days that He finds
Himself enchanted with a proud and haughty gaze, as He leads her in directions that have no stopping place.

And though she strains against the glass to go her seperate way,
with a cold and calloused, nail-scarred hand He forces her to stay.

Within the frames of desprateness she alone has been expected,
to praise The One who makes her run on a course that He's selected.