Locked Up in a Box
Six feet under,
Yet clearly alive.
What
happened,
You just can't recall.
It's hard to see,
And
you're on your own.
Something at your fingertips,
Cool and a
sleek black;
A way out of this mess:
Suicide.
The man on the
tape,
He tells you that you,
This time the victim,
Can go
the slow way,
Or the fast way.
You followed the evidence.
Look
where it put you.
Glass surrounds you,
And now so do
bugs.
Losing air, losing your life.
You hear someone, and
You
scream for your all you got.
They got you now,
But it's gonna
take some time,
But they'll get you,
They promise.
"Put
your hand on mine."
Soon you're flying through the air,
Then
landing face first,
Into a mouthful of dirt.
You made it.
You
made it.
We got you.