Sold For A Song

the bones of the doors in some parallel worlds, I take hold and swing but then they fall apart, to fly toward dimensions I never suspected. the leaves of the heart where you've never trespassed fold open just like a mechanical clock, all gears and cylinders driven by time. it's too late when the bones disperse, it's too late when the clocks stop talking- caught in the wake of something immense. help me wake up, I’ve been sleeping too long. help me wake up, we’ve been sold for a song.