I

can't

fuc-

king

breathe!

The

grass

is

all

dead,

but

I'm

cho-

king

on

the

weeds.

Fruit

de-

ca-

ying

on

the

trees.

Rot-

ting

bran-

ches

swa-

ying

gent-

ly

on

the

breeze.

Drain

me

of

my

sa-

ni-

ty.

I

can't

fuc-

king

breathe.

Pray

for

me.

I

can't

fuc-

king

breathe.

We

are

drow-

ning

in

the

lake.

We

are

drow-

ning

in

the

lake.

A

ho-

ve-

ring

waste-

land,

de-

void

of

time.

A

can-

cer

mag-

net

brea-

king

down

re-

a-

li-

ty.

We

are

rot-

ting

hope-

less-

ly

un-

a-

ware

of

our

non-

e-

xis-

tence.

Drain

me

of

my

sa-

ni-

ty.

I

can't

fuc-

king

breathe.

Pray

for

me.

I

can't

fuc-

king

breathe.

I

ne-

ver

made

a

pro-

mise

I

could

keep.

I

close

my

eyes

and

pre-

tend

to

sleep.

We're

on-

ly

bid-

ding

our

time,

bare-

ly

clin-

ging

to

life.

I'm

fuc-

king

dy-

ing

in-

side.

(I'm

fuc-

king

dy-

ing

in-

side.)

Pray

for

me!

A

ga-

ping

wound.

Blee-

ding

dark-

ness

in-

to

ab-

so-

lu-

tion.

In-

fec-

ting

ac-

tu-

a-

li-

ty.

Li-

ving

a

con-

stant

pain-

less

death.

A

col-

lec-

tion

of

hus-

king

corp-

ses,

des-

tined

to

stride

a-

long

in

e-

ter-

nal

ig-

no-

rance.