I quell the war inside my head
while my dreams strip me.
My screams inside have woke up the dead
still, my grip's not slipping
from the stone that drives me down
to the dark abyss in which I drown.
To make it to the water's skin would be
to end this story all too prematurely.
Blind panic keeps me awake
in dreams where I keep wandering.
So alive, but my body seems so dead.
So much potential, squandering.
I'm locked inside my head
and in a way my dreams free me.
My screams within have woken up the dead,
the graveyard of buried parts of me.
This stone I grip ahold,
my own weight that drags me down,
on it I write an epitath
for a fate to which I vow not to be bound.
while my dreams strip me.
My screams inside have woke up the dead
still, my grip's not slipping
from the stone that drives me down
to the dark abyss in which I drown.
To make it to the water's skin would be
to end this story all too prematurely.
Blind panic keeps me awake
in dreams where I keep wandering.
So alive, but my body seems so dead.
So much potential, squandering.
I'm locked inside my head
and in a way my dreams free me.
My screams within have woken up the dead,
the graveyard of buried parts of me.
This stone I grip ahold,
my own weight that drags me down,
on it I write an epitath
for a fate to which I vow not to be bound.
