The eerie feeling of silence after the screaming
Will consume the humbleness of your heart,
Chills down your spine with each second passing by,
Insanity creeping into the mind of the sane,
The sudden feeling of being watched,
You're not alone in the halls of a crazy-house,
Dissociative identites and schizophrenics,
Manic depressive episodes as the walls begin to settle,
They're teh ones talking, reaching insideyour mind
To bring you closer, dragging you by the ankles...
Silence: there is no sound; "Come chere, come here,"
Is the chant of the mad ("join the walls" an underlying voice sadi),
Phantom hallucinations walking in the distance,
Through the closed doors you can hear them breathing,
But there is no screaming, not a peep from the straightjacket patients,
Each one worse tahn the otehr, the disease of the mind
Beginning to make its presence known,
This feeling growing stronger in your bloodstream,
Its thickening texture slowing your heartbeat...
Silence is teh enemy of the craze,
Allowing room for emptiness to fill voided pain,
As voiceless as it all may seem,
The floors gripping the bottoms of your feet,
This-- hollowed out abyss, you didn't notice the in depth change,
Details becoming the focus point to keep reality in noise (scream, somebody),
But there won't be an answer to your plea,
Talking to yourself, a moment of disruption from this disturbing peace...
How strange teh lack of chatter can be,
When the halls you roam are empty and free.