Is it thirteen?

Is it number ten?

1971.

When life had just begun.

Is it my brother?

Born in '79.

My two-year daughter, or the one I left behind.

They lie and smile insist.

Better place wanted.

I can feel your eyes, burning, in my mind.

Expire.

Dead.

Running.

Pulling.

Plugging.

Doing.

Chastity.

I promise not.

In figure.

Naked.

Sweating.

Bleeding.

All forsaken.

Promise.

Nothing.

Nothing.

The ramblings of a madman.

Poison.

Words.

Naked.

Sweating.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Poison.

Nothing.

They pull you out it's very intimate.

To think they even make the time.

All is not to be forgotten.