It’s a picnic. This picnic is a circus-bizurcus.
Eating, drooling, indulging. Drool.
Drip, Drip, Drop.
And here comes the army, a parading army.
No helmets, no weapons, only armed with hunger.
Devouring. Feast. They feast on the food.
The feast on that food, I wish the food was you
Liar. Bastard. If I can’t take revenge, someone should.
An army, yes an army. Take their provisions and leave you for dead.
I would, you would, we should
Dark, cold, a light
Bright but unseen
They are coming, but not to help
They are here to make certain
It’s why you’re here
Certainty not for help
Run, you cannot move
Immobile, but free in your mind
Your son has left
You still can feel
Feel the cold, feel the dark, feel the pain
How long with this last
Why make someone suffer
Use your lifeline to call home
I don’t want to play who wants to be a millionaire anymore. This sounds way too serious. A cat gets nine lives… I only get three lifelines? Bogus.
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