Back, back, back against the wall, wall, wall.
Clawing at the river, I ached for it all.
For the grey filth to swallow me, not the other way around.
For the bright white light to beckon me, as I drown,
drown,
drown.
Again I yielded, the thought top dark to bare,
I never did, I never could muster the will to dare.
For that sea, for the, silence, for the current to flop me ‘round.
A cold dead thing, floating to the
ground.
