There is no escape from the metal that fills the rooms
and taunts you in your sleep, whispering your name, waiting,
such a silly game it plays, a winning prize not much of a reward,
it is blood and close encounters with death
that keeps you dealing cards, just to see what one's next,
a yearning that drills your brain like a thunderous migrain
and yet, you still manage to sleep all day,
Ghosts are tired of bashing down your bathroom door,
you know painkillers won't stop it anymore,
they're real and only you can see them now,
I heard they're trying to put your body underground.