Tash

A dreary life accented by the whispers
The fingers along the mind, echoing intentions
A falseness to everything building up into violence
Unforeseen consequences feeding dark dementia

And so I take the knife
And carve out one if it’s eyes

In the throes of evil, I can’t trust my surroundings
The madness echoes, I cannot trust myself
Horrible acts, blood on my hands, what have I done
They’re calling through the floor, calling for my blood

And still no rest for me, the paranoia deafens
Infecting every aspect of me, the cat is long since dead
My wife is suspicious, and so I come to her conclusion
Buried under the house to hide such shameful acts

And they come to ask questions
Can they hear the howling?

In the throes of evil, I can’t trust my surroundings
The madness echoes, I cannot trust myself
Horrible acts, blood on my hands, what have I done
They’re calling through the floor, calling for my blood