Spiked and serrated, deadly but fruitful;
The tongue of the Serpent still lies for you...
Brash, brazen and unrelenting
This dis-ease seeks to end me...
Tick....tick....tick.
Low clouds are scattered, amongst the mountain...
Anxious feeling of going to see the Physchatrist...
Living on 3 hrs sleep, awaking feeling like you...
All those times I took razors apart just to slice...
Now happiness is death!
Condolence too scarce...
Being dumped in an open pit.
Sets my whole body in contradiction...
On this doomed and gloomed dawn,
here I lie alone...
Swallowed down within
a tender breath took one...
I could sit here each day for hours,
Staring at everything there is for me to see...
Your eyes are like a hole in my heart,
Deep, dark, and dangerous...