Our brains suddenly changed,
and our shadows drew pictures on the walls,
Pictures depicting death and the intricacies of dying,
Promising life is a lie to us but promising death is easy,
Our youth consisted of rhythm and hope,
Could we bring that back, well, I can't answer that.

Several rooms above our heads,
Could sever all our limbs,
Then stuff them into our mouths,
To keep us from breathing,
But before then we'll sprint,
Getting out of the way.

We're getting tied down,
Onto metal doorways,
That break our heads with the repeated words,
like nothing ever before,
Some of us give up and some just fight,
Throwing hands while holding onto paper memories,
We want to be something,
So fight we will do.