Get into your seat, writer,
Find your home inside the ink,
Construct the walls out of paper,
Your desk out of pencils,
And your pipes out of hollowed pens.

I know you fell for the feeling,
But it's easy to get lost in it all,
If you walked away now,
I know you'd go insane.

Upon your mirrors there's words,
Reflections that spell your introspection,
Flip it around cause it's too much noise,
Cause, writer, the sound is burdening you.

I know you fell for the feeling,
But it's easy to get lost with it all,
Crashing down on your thin walls,
I know you're going insane.