Induced into sleep with
the bitter artificial flavour
of Promethium dreams
The necessity for a bland
afterlife of fictious deeds
sealed with acid seams
If we were to awake
into the hidden disguise
of lies and inventions
Would we burn still
with the same given desires
of chemical intentions?
Weary a forger
whose eyes yearn for Iodine
as he's grown old
Without the luster
are Cuprum and Aurum
really copper and gold?