Dust choked mirror reflects dark sunken
orbs beneath crescent moon halves
mutated skin wrists hang from frail
fractured limbs of tormented sinew
I\'ve been here before & I know the routine
I\'ve seen this before & I know what it means
Luna disc penetrates silver shards
across splintered boards of decline
concentric circles of aching frown sends
ripped muscles into relentless spasm
I\'ve been here before & I know the routine
Three hundred & sixty degrees
Right back down on my hands & knees
Three hundred & sixty degrees
I\'ve seen this before & I know what it means
Three hundred & sixty degrees
Right back down on bloodied knees
Three hundred & sixty degrees
Skeletal digits stab jagged points into
broken face lingering in hopeless gawp
déjà vu taunts & amplifies grief
filled pearls of salt stinging open wounds
I\'ve seen this before & I know what it means
I\'ve been here before & I know the routine
Stiffened facial expression of faith lost man
known as beast where little else compares
dwelling within on the fringe of the brittle &
crumbling wall of inner haunting & remorse
Arc of hatred paints impure line across
hoarse & exposed chords of sound
gurgled grin of remembrance falls silent
as tobacco stained breath expels existence