The 2 A.M Writer

The Door

Digging back up old ashes

Never were sent into the wind

They\'re still hot and pulsing

Beating alongside my grave

...

You lost what you carried

Your luggage has been replaced

Carry along with me

Face the door

...

Your karma has finally killed your hair

Graying along your roots

Now you\'re standing in the mud

Right where you stuffed my lungs

...

You lost what you held

Your torch has been snuffed

Drag along with me

Open the door

...

Falling, you\'re screeching

Crying, blinding yourself

I\'ll give you comfort

Comfort from your victim

...

You lost what you sought

Hands are severed and bleeding

Stain along with me

Fall into the door

...