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Consequences
My skin tingles at the ever growing dread,
Dread,
Dread.
All hope is gone, there is nothing left not a single thread,
Thread,
Thread.
As I lay and watch the days go by, all alone in my bed,
Bed,
Bed.
I remember I was once told: do not bite the hand in which you are fed,
Fed,
Fed.
But I did not listen to a single word they said,
Said,
Said.
I went off and did my own thing instead,
Stead,
Stead.
Pretty soon my heart turned into a thing of lead,
Lead,
Lead.
So I sat by myself, just sat down and read,
Read,
Read.
I saw that many people wed,
Wed,
Wed.
But those I was around were already dead,
Dead,
Dead.
Now I cannot stop the tiny voices that echo in my head.
My head,
My hea—
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