---

I run in the dark I can't feel my own skin

This foul stench around me breathe out or breathe in

These walls are alive I can hear someone's voice

I know they were here and they have made a choice

I've felt the scratching needles, tied in a rusty bed

No sun dared pass our windows, light's too much for a mad

Time here was more than endless, was worse than any pain

We knew there was nothing to gain

We screamed our reasons bound in chains

Our jailers mad like us insane

The fog is around me, the embrace of the night

All rooms are now empty, but I am still trapped inside

My mates are still beside me, they laugh between the walls

What year is this? It can't be still 1864

Mad minds can't hope to die

No use in running out again

I can't go back from where I came

No signs of consumption, sure, time left this place

No signs of redemption, no hope for a grace

Abandoned

Abandoned

If I convince myself that it's all inside my brain

Will I be spared this yearning and walk among the sane?

Be sure what choice you make

If I lay still and concentrate

I feel your time and space's weight

A morbid reaction, of time against space

Or a common condition, of a man without grace

Abandoned

Abandoned

I walk in the dark and survey one by one

The stations of madness, insanity's son

I know they were here, I did not heed their voices

At least, for one time I have done this by choice