Lyric 3 1/2

Open wounds in the palms of my hands,
festering through infectious time.
I feel so faint as my life spills over you.
Backstep over glass as I repent.
I fear I cannot prevent myself from spilling your life all over me.
I m so sick, so sick of myself.
Mother, say you ll pray for me.
I m premature in my decay.
Shards of glass swimming in my eyes.
A small voice in the back of my mind that s whispering words
I never want to hear.
I pray that you won t hesitate,
as you watch me degenerate,
to reach in my wounds and extract all of my fear.
My suffocation, asphyxiation.
I ve been choking on my own blood.