Man In a circular white room With a red TV What's on the TV It's static But he can make out voices Noises He opens his mouth Involuntarily No breath escapes But sound does He's scared Darkness within the sound of rain Soaking into the cardboard walls Gliding across the transparent tape Holding it together Should Or shouldn't Yes Or no He wonders As he lies in the paper prison Laying on velvet A skull He knew him well As he drifts off, again The whispers return A sharp inhale Time seeps through the white teeth And he hears Awake Laying on a bed of hands All nailed together by twisted skin Stitched together by fingernail needles Drowning in tangled haystacks of hair They're working Morphing Forming Combining Building To there To nowhere Dreaming planets People Personalities Ranting, raving Revealing A ravenous Revelation It's a cruel place It's a cruel place It's a cruel place It's a cruel place It's a cruel place It's a cruel place It's a cruel place It's a cruel place It's a cruel place It's a cruel place It's a cruel place It's a cruel place It's a cruel place It's a cruel place It's a cruel place It's a cruel place It's a cruel pla