He's been flooding his brain with everything that is wrong with this world
Illusions they hang upside down from the ceiling of his soul
Holding on by threads the accumulating dust takes it's toll
Memories of what he said changing his days and taking control
These ghosts move so slow
Now he just can't outrun this fire, so he's reaching for higher
Towards a place beyond these wires where the goal is to hold on to poems
And let the ropes float away, and embrace a slower pace in space and time
Cities flooding with rain all across this jaded jackknifed world
This institution of strain has him secured by stranglehold
His ghosts move so unabashedly slow
Slowly ghostly they go, and so it goes
Have you ever been at the bottom of the danger zone where the fallen forgotten they get thrown out into the cold