Featherweight - Nightcrawlers | Текст песни

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• Featherweight
• Nightcrawlers

our lives are
blindly crawling- open sores
over cold cracked concrete
make faint footprints, and attempt mapping
of the height,length,width,cracks,crevices-
the walls and the floors, but never fully sure:
just more reaching, stumbling as
if there would be a light switch or a door-
there are only
wind-swept whispers from far corners
and yelling in return, both parties trying to learn
if the other is real-
but Death:
the eventual stumbling over the
edge of the room- forever
falling: unconscious (though never
fully aware) into sense-deprived
nothingness;
shows his facetious face
and all is lost- aside from the
delicate, frantic art left by yearnful
years of dragging through the dark..

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