Crying with the sky.
I've turned my arms back way to far.
This grey somberness evening has made a fool out of one
I try to stop and think,
but the rodents keep gnawing at my feet.
Each line I speak I taint the air.
Why must you poke at my scars?
I dwell beneath the staircase.
For fear of what lingers on the other side.
I was lead to a point of no return, and this is what has become.
Why must my kitty die?
The scraping of my veins next to my sarcophagus,
Keeps me sain and my fears away.
Why must I get like this when someones at the door?

I've seen ravens fly by my window
Hopefully I'm on my way home.
 
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