I can’t move
Cannot speak
I can’t breathe the air
I can’t feel
Cannot touch
I can’t reach outside the square
The place I’m looking for
Lye’s behind the door
In room twenty three
I can’t wake
Cannot sleep
I can’t close my eyes
I can’t walk
Cannot run
I can’t seem to hide
The place I’m looking for
Lye’s behind the door
In room twenty three
I’m sick of living life this way
Consumed by fear everyday
Sometimes I wonder if it’s all in my head
I’m tired of crawling on the floor
I’ve tried to reach beyond that door
And I wonder if I’m better off dead