It grows in the walls,
It knows my name,
Is it reason or paranoia?
Or are they One and the same?
It's not, it's not, it's not a dream,
They're coming after me,
Yes you, you yourself are the proof,
You don't even know what's in your hand,
Look at your hand, the knife in your hand.
I had my chance,
To walk away,
From my furute,
But today is the day,
I saw in the kitchen, clutching the blade,
Your eyes were glazed and fluid, propaganda they splayed,
You said immortal with computers for a brain,
As you plunged the knife in your chest I died,
Because we are one and the same?
One and the same.
One and the same.
Writer(s): Robert Delong
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