I’ve got time to think, while on the brink of death’s tight hold… as I am growing cold. Apologies and guilt as I freeze. The things I should have said, I’m sorry, you’ll find me dead. So many a thing… accomplishments, not made by me. Oh, so many a deed, not done by me, you’ll see. I’m scratching the inside of this tomb. The last of my oxygen, I consume. I’m scratching the inside of this box. Breaking fingernails, no keys for locks. And, with every scratch I feel my pulse, with every beat I’m more repulsed… with every beat, I’m more repulsed by my failures to the human race, and secrets hidden from every family face. My apologies shall not take place. There are things I should have said, I spent too much time in my own head. So many things I should have said. And, I’m sorry, you’ll find me dead. I’m scratching the inside of this box. Breaking fingernails, no keys for locks. And with every scratch I feel my pulse, with every beat I’m more repulsed. I’m fuckin’ sick, let’s make this quick. I deserve what I’ve been served… let’s move along with it. I’m sick, let’s make this quick. I deserve what I’ve been served. So many a thing, accomplishments not made by me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You’ll see… you’ll see.
