There was a land made out of rivers & streams, faires & star dust, sunshine through the leaves. They froze in place as beautiful as can be, an oasis that has become inaccessible. The horrors of cliffs & deserts, time stretches the distant, distorts the road. Can't let go of finding things more beautiful, maybe the next bleak dawn, maybe the next broken soul. Will it still be accessible? Muster the strength as I grow old. What I had was complete, long time ago. Maybe the next wreck holds the map and the strength to stay. It's been inaccessible. Not something that can be brought & sold. Mountains of debts to cover up the guilt. It's really inaccessible. No-man's land in the dark, no one knows how far. Scared of returning, paradise then death. So inaccessible, pride & dust.