They’re always around
You’re never alone
They don’t make a sound
So you’ll never know
Still taking their gifts
You don’t know it’s them
How sweet will it be
When you are condemned
Stop drinking their blood
That salt won’t clean
They won’t hear you yell
They won’t hear you scream
Their mattress of bones
Will swallow you whole
You might have been young
But now you are old
Listen to conscience
Not to desire
For shadows would see you
Burn in that fire
Remember those watching
Whom we cannot see
Don’t cut yourself open
Cause they’ll let you bleed
The Wise Ry Guy 