Cold, damp tiles beneath the patter of my feet
Panicked breath caught between blurring faces
The sweet scent of baking is not welcome any more
The noise, the beeping, the beeping, the beeping
Where did you go when your hand lost mine?
Wheels whirring round me, an obstacle in their course
Beads of condensation clinging to every inch of glass
The sweet scent of raw meat, bleeding into my nostrils
Repetition, the aisles, the aisles, the aisles
Where did you go that's so far out of sight?