Is it thirteen?
Is it number ten?
1971.

When life had just begun.
Is it my brother?
Born in '79.

My two-year daughter, or the one I left behind.
They lie and smile insist.
Better place wanted.

I can feel your eyes, burning, in my mind.
Expire.
Dead.

Running.
Pulling.
Plugging.

Doing.
Chastity.
I promise not.

In figure.
Naked.
Sweating.

Bleeding.
All forsaken.
Promise.

Nothing.
Nothing.
The ramblings of a madman.

Poison.
Words.
Naked.

Sweating.
Nothing.
Nothing.

Poison.
Nothing.
They pull you out it's very intimate.

To think they even make the time.
All is not to be forgotten.