You're stuck inside while the mind is flying you said you'd help me in the morning twisting on pins into my eyes and we driving on the ceiling below you facin' up the walls with your crocked hands while you're miles away... I don't think at all end up like this there's spiders on the wall and they stink of piss dead heads lying in the corner staring at me making me feel bad I put my hands up to my eyes but the holes in my palms let me find a way to corner you...