Death is in the realm of the simple
It can be belittled to a motion o’ so little
Its nature is bland
It concedes to a hand
Even a sane man can hold a pistol

Eyes, however, tell a different tale
When instructed to look past the crooked veil
Where can I stare
Where is the prayer
Of the monster that sleeps so frail

Pardon me if I speak in this form
But I can no longer live on this conform
My head lives in rumbles
My voice speaks in mumbles
Where can we sail from this calm storm

I feel like a beast when I speak
My eyes jitter and my mouth creaks
I would die to be sane
I would live to be vain
Why do the words in my teeth leak

My stutter sets flames engulfing my face
And I shatter relationships with such grace
A monster in his own accord
A monster left often ignored
I have felt my own lonesome place