A Dream Country Snare

Streets of quiet    
Ghosts of youth  
engines cease    
To the quiet riot.    
   
No age of gold    
or Virgin Wonder    
Eyes surrender    
to the coming    
beyonder!    
   
A game of you    
Chessnut hair    
Distilled forever    
In this    
Dream country snare.    
   
Isolation kills us  
it pays to stay inside,  
I'm waiting for    
The sirens call  
...because I am never
Waking up again.