This life I call home is cold with no windows or curtains
I donít think there are any more rooms, Iím really uncertain
You see, this place is really dark and the walls are within reach
I feel upside down like an unborn, breached
I donít know if my eyes are open or closed
Or maybe Iím just deaf or even blind, you suppose?
This silence is so loud that I keep my ears covered
This air is so thick; Iím ten minutes from being smothered
My pulse is moving at the speed of Dale Earnhardt
My fingers and toes are so numb, feels like they fallen apart
My heart is held captured in my soul,
is that why itís so cold? You suppose?
My thoughts are blinded by the ugly ways of others
maybe thatís why I feel so smothered
These walls of life are closing in because Iím running out of time
In my prime, but yet not saved a nickel or dime
There are no windows or sight because there is no way out
Trapped in my own world, whatís that all about?