A minute is slicing my nerves
It gives me a pressure along my body's curves
Muting my voice down to the silence
Betraying me, my gestures are put in defiance
A minute ago I was a human
60 slices later I'm less than a human
All now is dragged by the flight of the time
Cruel and sharp as a brand new IKEA knife
That reduced my body to the value of dime
Why do not my instincts strife?
Shall I count down from five?
Four, three, two, one
Manifested through the precision cuts
Resistance sprays these slimy drops
Through the protruding guts
To the end
Am I portrayed by my own thoughts?
I guess it's just as it's been
It's nothing new, as always, it hurts
Stained and sealed by my scarlet drops
You're all damned rubbish herds