Walk with me to a place called Underland.
It is a place where you can see what can't be seen
And you can hear what can't be heard, too.
It is made of dust that got brushed off the desk one day,
of sad memories buried in yellowed pages,
and perhaps of dried tears and cold sweats
that you thought you felt in the dark of the night.
What do you see?
Did you hear the noise?
Come walk with me to a place called Underland.