As the shapes of black engulf a shade of the act
The fact is that the wrack and the ruin draws a panic attack
Grabbin' a jack-knife for each hand, let only time stand
My mind expand on demand thus leavin' my body but bland
I ain't no escape artist, I stare closely at my watch
Held close to the bottle of scotch, drinkin' my way to decline
Feelin' a strange vibe down my spine
Call me ill but I'll call it a sign
So suddenly, I feel my spirit disembody me
Driftin' to the ceilin', connectin' us with a thin string
As I watch my own kin lose it with a thick grin
Leanin' forth for a constant ringin', still not heroin
- Monark ''By The Time You Hear This, I'll Be Already Dead''
