Red rope lies on the floor
Contemplating, pondering, should I?
Maybe if life were just a bit more
And water didn't run knee-high

So this is what it felt like
For the others as they linger
Oh, but can'st thou call a sike
As the water reaches fingers

The door, glued shut with crimson liquids
Quivers like the thoughts and the doubts
Desperately, impatiently attempt to rid
The water rising to the snout

Red rope hangs on the ceiling.