Welcome to the Brookwood bathroom,
A place of sorrow, a place of gloom.
What happened here will happen again,
Which is why I pen this silent refrain.

Here come the girls who use the mirror,
Which was designed to help you see you clearer.
But with every stroke they distort their faces
'Til all that's left is nameless traces.

And here comes the child who cries herself to sleep,
Though during class her sanity she keeps.
But once her class ends, she rushes to the stall.
The monsters in her head begin their free-for-all.

And here comes the girl with her body a mess.
She tears it up at the slightest sign of stress.
She comes into here to slice up her arm.
One more victim in this war on self-harm.

Here comes the boy who stays after each day.
He thinks by hiding here he can get away.
He knows his parents are fighting at home,
And he's scared his dad won't leave him alone.

And here comes the child who binds their ******* in here.
They live their life cowering in fear.
Feeling like neither a woman nor a man
And lately they've been asking themselves if they can.

And here comes the teacher who's stressed to the max
She feels as though she's bound to collapse.
She chose this job in order to make a difference
But all she's met with is loathing and bitterness.

Now it's time to say goodbye
The transition bell is looming nigh.
Leave behind the wanness and sorrow
And leave me to cope with it all again tomorrow.

In silence we mourn,
for it is in darkness we awake ,
and peek through holes as the daylight appears ,
in the light of the gate ,
that  snuffs out the wick in the march of the years .

Then slowly and quiet.y our coffins await to be drawn out in trains ,
out of the Nectropolices gate.

For as the bush fires burn ,
and scorch the land ,
and the war Lords gather to map out their plans .
For even if the Netropolics  train is running late ,
and we play hopscotch by the stations gate ,
but it’s to late the carriages move ever on .

But the preacher waits there is a cure ,
and the trains wagons will stop im. Sure .

So tell the sick Christ’s work is done ,
the cross ,
new life in Gods only son .
There  is a way past Brookwood crem,
and deaths train is not the end at all ,
for them .