The scorpions inside:
I can bleed, for that’s just what I do, but I am a child of the earth and I don’t think I know you.
The bones sticking out of my skin are screaming for air, but I push them back in and let them drown a little longer. For the pain is worth the everlonged delay of the sweet release of death.
And I don’t care, what do you think of me because I don’t have the time when the scorpions buried deep inside eating me alive.
Eating me alive.
Infested,
Cause the scorpions inside use me as a puppet to get free, but you use a cage of my own body and me.
And I don’t care, what you think of me because I don’t have the time when the scorpions buried deep inside eating me alive.
Alive.
Knowing that I should fight, doesn’t feel so right, when the scorpions buried deep inside,
have eaten my corpse alive.