I can’t think straight.
Reaching through the corridors,
of what’s left of my mind.
I’m unhinging.
I can see the dead,
rising from their graves,
and I feel I’m one of them.
Wherever I go,
wherever I hide.
I can feel the rising tide.
Whatever I’ve found,
whom ever I seek,
I’m still tied.
Are you here for me?
Are you listening?
Are you watching closely?
I feel the weal unwind.
