Stand up straight
dipped in crimson
convenient omission
Not as I predicted
Tunnel Vision
Read my face
My feelings encrypted
I'm Password Restricted
Don't it all seem scripted
Pretend I'm a drone
Locked up in my home
I can't hide
On the Telephone
In the Microphone
My insides
Blood it dries
I feel fine
In my prison
Feeling chased
clock won't stop ticking
Sweat starts trickling
been murked to the grave
and have risen

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