Petulant voices fill my thoughts
Telling me their feelings of woe
Unconcerned about what theyre doing to me
They pull me under again
Swimming against the current of their megalomania
Gasping for air, searching for a way out
Trying to call for help
I fill my lungs with their conceit
Thrashing about I find my escape
Clutching it in my hand, I find a corner
Sitting down I roll up my sleeves
And watch the crimson trail it leaves in its wake
