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I scream I shout, but words are useless to the bodybag that holds
My soul and heart, I'm trapped here, and It's cold.

Let me out, let me up, I'm not dead, just empty of blood.
This void is empty, this coffin is damp. I'm still trapped under the words you enchant.

I lack the concept of gaining morale ground, I scream I shout, but I'm constantly keep falling down.

The scent of dead is splitting me wide. The smell is sickening, the scent of formaldehyde. It stops the pain it stops the pain, but not the misery that's born along its side. You drop the shovel, the deal is done, in the end all a lie.

So I scream, I shout inside this bodybag so cramped, I'm cold I'm tired, just let me rest my head. I pray that when I wake up, just let me be dead.