Eyelids flip open. Nah, let 'em shut again
Can't seem to recall why he should get up again
So down he's tumbling, can't help but be stuck within
Light another candle to the alter of his suffering
Aww, our poor boy. he's had it so hard
He's so scarred and he thought he made it so far
So what? Even he's sick of his so crushed
He'd rather be sewn up and hold tough like a grown up
But he holes up, lying in his mattress
And rips holes up into the spots where he had patches
Then thinks, "Hold up, why should i give in to the panic?"
But he does. Cause what would he be if he didn't have it?
Nothing, a shadow, vapor, distilled ether
A collection of flesh and bones with concealed features
So he'll build the fever and mill the meter
Dance a dirge with death while he cheats her. he needs her

So here he is again, locked inside a tomb
He's mistaken his coffin for womb
Talking 'bout his doom while they watch another moon wax and wane
That's the same cycle, vain trifle, trapped inside a loop
He plays aloof while they wait for his ascension
The plain truth is that he's no more than a mention
So while they're bettin' he doubles down on fog and grey
And claims not every dog gets its day
There's some that just stray
He's leaving his lungs to decay
Prepared to put his tongue in the grave
He'll be dumb from this day with no reason for the speech
Just a soldier who's useless at the breach, incomplete
Turning to a statue from the inside out
Stone in his gut and concrete in his mouth
Death don't dance no more but she still stops by
Swears he's seen her in the mists of the night sky

He wakes up and he's literally shaking
Vibrating, gets out bed, he can't shake it
Ties up his laces. boots stomp out the door
Two o'clock in the morn, world dead as he awakens
Breathes in. Taking in the view from the roof
Better get down, not sure what he'll do in this mood
Kick rocks down the sidewalk, headed north
Mist drops at his fore, quick blocks, ten or more
Three-hundred thirty-seven paces to his Mecca
Filled with landmarks dedicated to his best of
And his mess ups and all the rest of
The passing headlights will be transport to his next up
Just three side-steps from the iris in
Deserves only the vilest of ends
There he goes, left, right, left
Unsuspecting driver. last light quenched.