There is a fog inside the room. But the windows are closed. There are footsteps in the hallway. But I live alone. And somewhere… Very far away… A bell is ringing. For me. --- **[Verse 1]** Morning came without a colour, Grey light crawling through the blinds, I knew the walls, I knew the doorway, But something felt… misaligned. The clock was breathing on the dresser, Every second sounded wrong, Like someone counting down behind me, Though I’d been standing there too long. There was a shape behind the curtain, Tall enough to touch the roof, When I turned there was nothing, But the shadow stayed as proof. So I laughed… A little nervous. Told myself it’s only tired eyes. Then somewhere underneath the floorboards… Something laughed back twice. Carry me slowly, Carry me low, Into the places Only dead thoughts go. Ring every church bell, Blacken the sky, Something is burying The back of my mind. I know my name… I think I do. I know this house… I’ve walked it through. But every room feels farther behind. Tonight they are holding A funeral… For my mind. --- **[Verse 2]** The fog came thicker in the evening, Like smoke without a flame, Photographs became strangers, Faces almost had my name. I heard my mother in the kitchen, Softly humming something old, But when I opened up the doorway… The room was empty. Dark. And cold. There were fingerprints upon the mirror, From a hand too long and thin, And written through the condensation: **“WE HAVE ALWAYS BEEN WITHIN.”** I stepped backwards. Hit the hallway. But the hallway stretched away. And every door I tried to open Led me back to yesterday. Don’t look behind you. Don’t look behind you. Don’t— …Why are you looking behind you? Carry me slowly, Carry me low, Into the places Only dead thoughts go. Ring every church bell, Blacken the sky, Something is eating The back of my mind. I know my name… Don’t I? I know this face… Don’t I? The mirror keeps changing Each time that I try. Tonight they are holding A funeral… For my mind. Days stopped having names. Monday. Thursday. Winter. Morning. None of it matters anymore. There are people outside my window Who disappear when cars pass by. There is a child beneath my staircase Who keeps asking me… **“Why?”** There are insects in the wallpaper. There are whispers in the sink. There is someone standing near me Every time I try to think. And the worst thing isn’t seeing them. No. The worst thing is this: I’m beginning to remember them. Like old friends… I somehow missed. One step. Two steps. Three steps. Four. Someone is knocking Behind every door. Five steps. Six steps. Don’t make a sound. Something that looks like me Is walking around. Seven steps. Eight steps. What did I say? Why does tomorrow Look like yesterday? Nine steps. Ten— The counting stops. And somewhere upstairs… A coffin drops. Where am I? Where am I? Where— No. I know this place
