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Death Clock
Do you hear the ticking of your death clock dear?
It sounds so heavy it sounds so near.
I can hear a slight whistling i can feel a slight breeze,
Im starting to feel weak espically round the knees.
My stomach caving in, my darling, i can feel it tensing up,
my sight is unfocus im fading into dark.
i can see the distorted figure of life and promises,
a broken record playing shows me how it begins.
I broke free from a watery doom i broke free from myself,
for that split secound baby i feel heaven on my mouth.
but that grip of death i held that only thing i had,
taken away from me, burnt up, and stolen in a flash.
They stole my once so close chance to achieve my fucking dream,
they brought me back to earth and made my broken dream.
they stole it, baby, i may never get it back,
they gave me shot and i took they stabbed me in the back.
now im left drowning in my pit of sorrow.
i guess they expect me to thank them when i see them tomorrow.
my life slowly drifting forward fast forwarding to this day,
blood slowly dripping and this voice seems to say.
"theres something vital your missing im not sorry you need to die,
you see this life your living? its only a fucking lie"
im pushed forward to exit and pulled to keep you sane,
and all of this tension is bringing pressure on my brain.
theres something your not getting something you need to know,
that this life for is not worth living so give me back my soul...
