The White Worm

The coming of the white worm
And how it twists and turns
In the golden apple mind,
The stem that is my spine.
To brush away all doubts
To rot me inside out
But I won't feel a thing
For that's the bliss he'll bring.

The coming of the white worm
And how it twists and turns
But I pretend to be a friend
To stab him in the end.

A rustling sound
Way off in distant trees
It grew loud
Yet I felt no breeze
But all of a sudden
The leaves spun around me
And all at once
The breeze was upon me...

The one that's calling,
The dancing song of praise
I come crawling
Across the mirror of my gaze