and i couldnt run away if i tried
my car wouldn't get past the city
everything holds me back
holding me in place
in space
in suspended time

and everyday is exactly the same
with the decision whether to breathe
or hang myself from the ceiling
in suspended space
in weightless time

with the crooked wings
i always wanted
to help me fly far away

but they only came out of my flesh
in my wide awake dreams
where i'm suspended
between the ideas of life and death

because the choice is always in my hands
and rattling my brain
like a rat spinning in a wheel
only mine is made of shame
and memories
and death