Run around the underground.
Follow the trails of the sound.
The tiled walls on the floor.
Pass the body of the whore.
Duck from the echoes around the street.
The pitter patter of your feet.
Jump the curb and hit the road.
Dodge the cars in psycho mode.
The adrenaline is running thin.
Take a piss by a bin.
Looking up to cast a stare.
Your bleeding eyes don’t seem to care,
Of what’s all around, it can’t detect.
These other faces contain no threat.
So ask yourself “So where are you?”
Subsonic space is something new.
Deepening black, chemical flak.
You hit the ground and something cracks.
The blackness clears, replaced by fear.
Spurting blood is all you hear.
You’ve hit the floor with your senses wrapped.
Nothingness, your neck has snapped.
Straight off the edge and hit the abyss.
Try and survive, it’s you last wish.
Your heart burst out with infinite guilt.
For all the things you could have built.
The crying minds last thought is flying.
Without these drugs, it would not be dying.