Modus Operandi -

These hands mirror my own.

Blistered and raw from their works unknown.

Scattered things litter the floor.

To be expected when loosing control.

This dirt in my nails haunts me with unclear details.

This sinking in my chest

wont let me rest.

You wake and you work and you come home tired.

You’re cinching the neck with

the ties required.

Still when they look at you you got to pull yourself

together.

The night from your head drips into your feet.

You’re waking with grave dirt

between the sheets but still when you feel it’s gone you’re wrong, you’re wrong,

you’re wrong, you’re wrong.

Tell me these memories aren’t mine.

Tell me when I’ll wake.

Who are you?

What have I done?

Who are you?

I’m not sure if I woke today.

Dreams like leaves are blown away.

If I had known I’m not alone.

That I’m not the only one trapped in this body.

Where we used to sing, the choir expells us and tarnished our wings.

Where we used to laugh now holds the weight of the stronger half.

And every day gets worse.

The weight it starts to take it’s course and you’ve

got time to kill as you begin your decent.

And every arid face feed the fires of your disgrace.

The hands are breaking

through the soil to take you to your place.

I’m not sure if I woke today.

Dreams like leaves are blown away.

If I had known I’m not alone.

That I’m not the only one trapped in this body.

I’m not sure if I woke today.

Dreams like leaves are blown away.

If I had known I’m not alone.

That I’m not the only one trapped in this body.

Who are you?

This isn’t real.

Who are you?

This isn’t real.