Crisis Different Ways Of Decay
i think i'm rotting on the inside. way down deep inside my soul.. i've built
this little coffin that i live in every day. i peek out every day or so to see
those ghosts at play. i've got my knife right by my side. i keep it warm, i hold
the blade. i want to keep watch, keep hold.. for when they come to take my soul
away. i've got this fear living inside me. it keeps me crippled and cold. like a
child i lie frozen. i hope these arms won't reach out and take hold. there's
blood on my face it keeps me warm at night..
