The pressure on my back
A sharp and piercing knife
My will has begun to lack
And I start to price life

My sense of respectability
And my price of everything
Is starting to lose credibility
And I lose interior shelving

My mind is clouded and fogged
My eyes are glazing over
And my mind can't be jogged
My heart starts to quietly shiver

I lose myself in the darkness
But I'm lost at words
And I'm lost in the abyss
Like the chirps of early morning birds