A hollow body withered by dread,
A corpse walking with a beating heart,
But a beaten brain.

He comes from inside and the sun burns his eyes,
Before the dark indoors engulf him once again,
How long will he remain hidden this time?

For so long he has lived like this,
Though many will not notice.
For he smiles and laughs when there are people around him,
But cries inside for he is still lonely.

When day turns to night,
He turns to the ceiling and sees
A small glimmer of hope,
The shadow of a rope.

When they find him they'll be different,
"I never knew!" They'll say.
But of course it's too late already,
There's no going back now.

A hollow body withered by death,
A corpse with a silent heart,
A corpse with an empty brain.