I climbed
the mountain top
I saw the bottom drop
I cling to driftwood
I swin in a deep world
Words unspoken seem to foreign
Have you heard this one
The hair on the back of your neck stands
Another way out, another way out
The armies have escaped
The hair on the back of your neck stands up
Ink runs into my cup
I sip and ..... on it
Think ‘bite tarantula’
Taste of my symptoms
Gasoline and a pistol
Blood filling the bottle
Swollen eyelids
Baffled for by this
Tell us what you see
The hair on the back of your neck stands
Another way out, another way out
The armies have escaped
The hair on the back of your neck stands up
Ink runs into my cup
I sip and ..... on it
I’ve bitten my lip for the last time
Fog lifts up for the blind
Free of body free of mind
I will not hold up rest inside
Ink spills on paper
Paper spells my blood
Ink spills on paper
Paper spells my blood
The hair on the back of your neck stands
Another way out, another way out
The armies have escaped
The hair on the back of your neck stands up
Ink runs into my cup
I sip and ..... on it
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