A breeze sweeps in, in a room with no walls
The grass tickles carcasses and softens all falls
Teeth scatter these lands like glass shards on floor
But sounds are quiet without a door
Quick to jump whats left is not
All that remains is smell and rot
No one no thing to come for me
No one nothing to comfort me
In the grassy fields, not a grain of sand
The masses of miniscule dont heap in hands
The hair clumps in handfuls, the blood pumped on candles
With no doors there shall be no handles
Get a grip of the light that beams in dawn
You feel your hand and your hand feels warm
An isolation temporary, when you scream to avoid imaginary
But the day is soon to come to end, and sooner to slip away from hands
As you slip off and dream again, the peace is disturbed when the nightmare ends
