What should never be
Soul separating at the seams
Bullets in my dreams
Me eyeing that apartment on Bub Teems

What should never be
Mama in the bathtub, in the floor
Pinned to the wall, I can't take any more
In my bed shaking to the core

What should never be
Night time screams and deadly dreams
Pounding pulse and silent repulse
Soaking sheets and floor beats

What should never be
Picking up furniture, who's keeping score?
The fresh metal hole in the screen door
Speak of these things never more.