Mindstate74

We followed lanterns made of thunder
down alleys breathing velvet rot
the night unfurled like torn confession
a sideshow built from all we’re not

The Batcave stirred with crooked laughter
its mirrors cracked from every scream
a circus ring of powdered shadows
where lost souls learned to love the dream

Welcome to the pale carnival
where the broken lights still gleam
a traveling ghost of festivals
that haunts the spaces in between
Welcome to the pale carnival
where the misfits take their throne
a wandering realm of twilight streets
where the outcasts stand alone

At Zillo’s field the fog descended
like ashes from a borrowed moon
black banners rose in silent hunger
as if the dusk were coming soon

The night was stitched in silver pulses
the ground a drum beneath our feet
and every scream became a blessing
in rituals of dust and heat

Welcome to the pale carnival
where the broken lights still gleam
a traveling ghost of festivals
that haunts the spaces in between
Welcome to the pale carnival
where the misfits take their throne
a wandering realm of twilight streets
where the outcasts stand alone

We carried torches made of longing
through seasons carved in static snow
our laughter thin, our shadows heavy
still marching where the dark wants to go

A caravan of fractured faces
a pilgrimage of black and bloom
we celebrated what was dying
and fed the heart that never knew

Welcome to the pale carnival
forever shifting through the years
from basements deep to open fields
a cavalcade of hopes and fears
Welcome to the pale carnival
the cradle of our lore
we dance beneath the trembling stars
and keep returning for more