• Fall through the looking glass,
    Within a messed up dream.
    There is no doubt that things here
    Are exactly as they seem.

    Red blood to fill the spaces,
    When it's off with your head'
    With one wrong move in this dream,
    Your blood will stain the roses red.

    In this dream the sane are tortured,
    With things that madden the mind to hate,
    And a giant pocket watch,
    But for what are we late?

    Will you run with me a while,
    Will you rest my feet,
    Will you play the Red Queens game,
    And deal with your defeat?

    For in this dream where flowers talk,
    And you can understand,
    Is it a torment of the mind,
    Or is it wonderland?