At the bottom of a deep well of anger, there is great sadness.

Which is scarier - Piecing together the jumbled fragments of a nightmare and looking at the finished picture? Or knowing that something so dark and morbid came from inside your own head?


delirium

the world is rocking to and fro
am i shaking or is it the walls moving
i don't know

i can't feel my hands
i can't feel my arms
i can't feel anything

the light through the curtains
it does something funny to my eyes
i look around but everything's a blur

someone's crying
someone's screaming
i don't know

the light did something funny to my eyes
the room's all fuzzy
the walls keep moving around

why is everything moving but i can't move
how are the walls spinning like that
why won't everything stop spinning

my knees are starting to hurt
my knees hurt why do my knees hurt
i don't know

i can feel my hands again
there's something cold and heavy in my hand
something warm and wet on my feet

i'm looking at them but they look weird
it's not my legs it's not my legs
there's something on my legs

why is there someone on top of me
why are they on sleeping on my legs
the face is laughing at me

why won't you stop laughing
why won't you stop laughing
why won't you stop laughing

not laughing anymore
sleeping that's right just sleeping
not laughing anymore

i can move my legs again
i can get up now
i'm okay now yeah i'm okay

i can clean this all up
it's okay i can fix this
it's gonna be alright

i'm okay
i'm okay
i'm okay