And everywhere I go,
There's a knife on the table,
Left on show,
And everything I see,
Turns into a blade,
It's so haunting for me,
And everything I smell,
Reminds me of fresh dripping blood,
The knife can leave this hell,
And everywhere I stand,
A knife is staring at me,
Making a slashing demand,
And every time I hallucinate,
A knife finds it's way into my mind,
One of these days it will be too late. |