the  exposed light bulb  swaying
bare  walls,  light  bulb  swaying
casts  shadows, swaying  illusion
we're  all dead,  never were  born
we're all just swaying light bulbs
from the ceiling it hangs; suicide
the   ceiling   we  hang;  petrified
torn  paper  and  scratched paint
this is the room  we  come to  die
the room  we  came  to  get  high
nostalgic,   childhood   memories
in this room,  they're fading now
-  the times we were beaten  here
and the phantom  bruises  linger
claustrophobic; the walls close in
everythingfeelsdenseunremitting
andheavy , howdidwesurvivethis
thevoicesareshoutingnowdoyouh
earthemcallingo­urnamesandthre
ateningdeathIthinkitshisvoiceour
dadiscoimingagain­tofinishthejob