I hear microwaves a-bouncing up and down the hallway
Sent from satellite so far away on distant plane.
They're asking me if I know the opposite of time, but
I cant find an answer, won't they let me run away?
The funny thing is that I run to and from the answers
Everybody's running, running to their own decay
Time to death, existence, body organs being eaten,
Slowly rotting, our Saturday mornings drift away…
I splash my fangs impatiently, this plaque does need a killing
It doesn't know that it will not be around for good.
Here, black ink and paper, my reality is waiting,
I can own the flesh, the feasting; here time still is stood.
Open wounds ripe for the ending, should be glad I'm waiting
tight skin holds my vital organs nestled into place.
Perhaps innards know, and plot it all just to deceive me
lungs and liver, hearts, intestines thwart the human race.
They get sick of slavery perhaps? they do know worthless
ends are to be met, what difference now or later makes...