The shadows shuffle gently behind, my eyes they follow, the cold emptiness they hold- it raises my skin, its hollowness now a stranglehold, it’s getting cold, I’m getting cold.
While I drift dangerously in feeling without feeling, as the shadows tightly grip all what’s left within me. There’s no strength in me to fight the, fight the cold.
There’s now nothing, but a companion of loneliness for me to hold.
And now I’m just a silhouette, just the same as the shadows so cold.
All I feel is cold.
My body slips through the cracks and starts drifting far away, without any bone to hold myself in I drift out silently with the current in this coffin of skin. I was born to be buried in.
Living in this coffin of skin.
I was born to be buried in.
And this cold has now, it has become almost everything, now just a silhouette you think you’re dreaming. Living in this coffin of skin, I was born to be buried in, living in this coffin of skin, I put my heart in, living in this coffin of skin, and I put my life in.