Clocks ticking, sucking life out of their ears
Cold fingers shaking, blood rush, brushing away the tears
Silence breaking all his sanity, his mind running from what's inside. Can't run far. Far, he can't run far
Nevertheless he tries, falling, breaking, smelling the old blood as it dries
Cracking whips as he tumbles. Grabbing air trying to catch a glimpse of the darkness.
Bad bandages covering his own self inflicted wounds. Brushes become knives, breathes become dead lives.
He's slipping out, out of his own grip. His soul gone, ripped
Black air, broken dispiar, cracked bones. Life on hold.