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...