Silence, my oldest of friends, comes leaking out again Out a grey faucet inside my brain The feeling; a familiar agony tuned into tapestry Wrapped firmly around me, unfortunately It's true; I'm stuck on you Marooned in your dark cocoon Designer of every face I wear Caught in a vacant stare; feel's like I'll never get of here It must be something in the air or maybe, baby This island was meant just for me He'll bruise my firmest fruit Marooned in his acrid fumes How could I escape what seems like fate? Perpetuate my grave Sink down This must be the place...