There in the trees on top of the hill
a house rises seemingly from nowhere
spared the rod of modern architectural will
it reaches above the canopy in despair
careful not to touch the world that consumes it
a moonlit tragedy glowing like nightmares

Fear inspired its construction in the past
that persecution was drawing near
reared from contradictions growing fast
with a world that was as yet unclear.
Careers were founded on these false ideals
sealed by paying patrons kneeled before them through the years.

Time only made the palace stronger
atop that mountain of political power it climbed
anytime someone hinted their use existed no longer
they changed the doctrine to make the act a crime.
Mimed notions of intent to seize control
resoled as demonic influence against the sublime

Decay has worked its way through the house now
twisting beams as it twisted minds in its day
weighed down by the lies and horrors they allow
to save face and self and spite those in the way.
Pray you never enter the like of these homes
catacombs for the ideas and dreams they slay