So cold Pitch Black No sleep Can't stand Stone walls Wet floor No lamp No door Trapped in, the depths Of a dark abyss That contorts My mind A tight space, of self hate Like growing decay Fills my Oubliette Hungry So Hungry Nothing There's nothing Just mould And bugs That watch Over me Trapped in, the depths Of a dark abyss That contorts My mind A tight space, of self hate Like growing decay Fills my Oubliette The shadows They stare They laugh They scream At me I cry And hide Help me Trapped in, the depths Of a dark abyss That contorts My mind A tight space, of self hate Like growing decay Fills my Oubliette