Small white pills, count one-two-three
My ceiling fan, it talks to me
It tells me to stand on my bed
So hungry blades can reach my head
So hungry blades can reach my head
In he hands of the unappeased dead
The ghosts of the future, ghosts of the past
A haunting visage to see last
A haunting visage to see last
The stainéd corridor of the past
We wash the walls with turpentine
Till hands are raw, shape undefined
Till hands are raw, shape undefined
Like a sky, dotted with starry concubines
Always in position under the Moon
Who's like the soul, a drifting balloon
Who's like the soul, a drifting balloon?
Among the clouds, another moon
It drifts into the atmosphere
Another soulless person here
Another soulless person here
His heart, as glass as clear
The glass heart neither gives nor takes
A lost life never to wake
A lost life never to wake
With this silver, I now take
But sleepless nights it haunts me still
My thirst has had not had it's fill
My thirst has had not had it's fill
The thirst for though, power of will
It drains me from the inside out
But drains you just as much about
But drains you just as much about
As if you were to run and shout
About the town, up and down,
Screaming bloody murder found
Screaming bloody murder found
Nothing'll ever turn around
Isolated, solitary, estranged
Deluded, demented, dejected, deranged
Deluded, demented, dejected, deranged
The doc pronounces you insane
You turn the pills over in your hand
And once again count them, again and again
And once again count them, again and again
Again and again comes the pain and the pain
Again and again count the deathly chimes
Again and again count the end of time
Again and again count the end of time
By now you're sure you're out of rhymes
Turning your noggin inside out
And upside down, shaking it around
And upside down, shaking it around
Hearing the upside down, shaken sounds
As things alive jiggle and bound
And end and lie in a dead mound
--Cynic signing off~
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