I break the legs of the ghostly dancers, I see from the black on the ceiling
I refuse to choke on the substance, that aids to evade this feeling
A fever that tries, to leave one behind to rot with the flies
Shortcuts equate to short cuts down the arms, down the spine, down the body of lies

It's sink or swim, with the hate you try to hide
It's rope tied tight, with the hate you try to hide
It's sink or swim, with the hate you try to hide
It's rope tied tight, with the hate you try to hide

I want out
There's no doubt
In a gun that shouts
Into the mouth