We are...
Your life...
Your flesh..
Your name..
We are
Your life after death..
The bloody mess
Left stained on your black desk
Smeared pain on your black pen-knife still fresh
Dark crowded room
No light, no ray no spark, no hope left
Just no point, no more, no more to deal with stress
Everything inside
Under lock and key, no passage to confess
Keep all your thoughts under public arrest
Confined and squeezed until theyíd made to be less
And less
No room to ride free
No bail, no holy grain, no one to run to and tell lifeís tale
Tit for tat
Food for thought Letís see how long itíll take to digest
Lets see how long it takeís to come out the other end none the less
Letís see how long it takeís
To die just
Be careful
Of the sticky yellow label
They slap on your head when your down and fable
Found suffocated with a telephone cable
Just the call
Three and
The Four
And the Five minuteís
But After the three minuteís itís to late init
Your going to heaven! Or hell if your sent from it
We are infinite