Every time I open a door
It leads to some place else
To a far distant shore
Or the inside of a paraselz
The door is opened with a creak
All I know is vanished
Nothing is there left to seek
But the eyeless manchiced
Standing in the next room
Are people I don't know
They look as if the shroom
Was good, are happy with the flow
Another door transports again
This time near a preparerant
It sends me to a light fain
And exudes a limited stant
Another door is express to next
It must be in the indian van
Surrounded where there is no text.
Only the hourglass of san,,,,,,
Another door brings me closer to you
This is the one where I might stay
The place we find is out view
The today has arrived and a-flay!
Another door and there's nothing left
Nothing of anyone at the empty booth
Where the sleep of the scramble
I Takes place, by selfish roothe.
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