The Wax Museum

It was a beautiful day when paul arrived the nobody hole was like a hive
And buzzing with all the lonely hybrid people who called it home
A city lit by rivers of lava the air was cooled by hella humungous pipes
Suspended in the sky or jutting from winding roads

Hills and lakes of tears with weird appearances trains and sheer
Disgusting smells the wails of folk long forgotten and lost
Shared the air like they were raised by strangers, loved by murderers, or they died alone in flower beds
But were never given a rose....

Kind of cold kinda chilly
Women with half their bones chilled on creaking porches knitting
Sitting with half a hope waiting for husbands deader than dirt
That never survived that fateful day at work
But patience it never did hurt...

Did it?
Imagine a world where all the trees are white
There is a source of light but the sky is always night
The grass is auburn red the dirt looks like chalk
While a coat of rust and frost covers all the homes in sight

Now hold a piece of negative film up to a candle and you get the gist of what this misty inbetween is like
A thriving city where boys were made of socks
Dogs have legs of glass and little girls have empty eye sockets of solid rock
See everybodys missing something crucial or unusual and despair grips
Them tight to drag them under its spell
So we call it the nobody hole NOT because its hell but because nobody is whole in this world beneath the well

Now back to Paul... who just retched on himself, and woke up by a wax museum as a sketch of himself
And instead of regular replicas he’s surrounded by wax figures of characters he drew at the edge of the felt...
The action heroines... all in glass dioramas.... hundreds of em
Holding loaded hammers, gats, hand cannons, pistols, tommy guns and roscoes
A violent imagination makes anything possible
Wiping tears away from his eyes with a dirty shirt sleeve allowing
Himself to breathe
Walking by the cases looking deep into their faces he knew each one of them by name
Cus he could draw them in his sleep
Oshun, queen ransom, and doctor shrewd
Stared back as he passed them all looking for a clue
Even manda was there with his knife in hand the only dude
That paul ever drew and gave a weapon to
That was not a gun he saw him and he shrugged
Kept it movin as he found a door to exit thru
It shut behind him with a boom....
The hallways began to moan as the wax figures inside moved…

NARRATOR
Paul walked onto a path lined with willows, shrooms and elms
The Nobody City loomed before him, an eerie glow far below
A shadowy figure left the museum behind him, o pray tell
I’ll do my best to tell you its tale, but I’m not sure you want to know…