Woorden: Anathema. A Fine Day To Exit. Panic.

:
You know you ain't going nowhere you're stuck inside
while the mind is flying you said you'd help
me in the morning twisting on pins into my
eyes and we driving on the ceiling below
you... facin' up the walls with your crocked hands
while you're miles away I don't think at all
end up like this there's spiders on the
wall and they stink of piss dead heads
lying in the corner staring at me making me
feel BAD I put my hands up to my eyes
but the holes in my palms let me find a way
to corner you
I can't feel my chest because it ain't much
sucking through my skin into my BRAIN
oxygen pushing on the window cracks in the glass let it slip away
I start to cry and I keep on laughing
I close my eyes at what's left inside
and then i'll ran away

For all the time this land
for all the time in my hand
slip around
(...
...)
once again

Razor blades floating in the warm bath air bubbles in your veins turning
my hands black whispers coming from the next room
window cleaner keeps on SPYING I put my hands up
to my eyes but the HOLES in my PALMS let me find
a way to corner me twelve (12) hammer for

My breakfast slipping of the edge in catatonic
blood multiple decibel inscriptions trying all they
can in miles an hour ... face
grey and looming downwards
sniffing ALL THE TIME for a ounce
of silence screaming all the way numbers
counting down inside me
solar system thoughts circle
round my HEAD false teeth hanging
from the ceiling feet looking of the goms
of the 2nd son I eat
my hands cos my legs are crying you
BROKE my neck cause i
snapped my spine I wish you would
die away to all the time in this land
and all the time in my hands circle
round in depth found calmness
fall once again