Thoughts Of A Troubled Teen

Never visit an ant farm When you’re feeling kind of low Their little bodies are a freak of nature Bet their stories were penned by Poe Black lines marching in silence Through tunnels no daylight knows Every move feels borrowed From a nightmare’s dusty prose Crawl, crawl, crawl In the undertow Whispers in the dirt say Never let it show Crawl, crawl, crawl Through the undertow Tiny gothic soldiers Writing tales of woe Carrying crumbs like gravestones Stacked in their endless rows If you stare too long at the shadows The hive will swallow you whole The queen sits silent in darkness Like a secret you shouldn’t know Every birth, every burial Reads like an ancient ode Crawl, crawl, crawl In the undertow Whispers in the dirt say Never let it show Crawl, crawl, crawl Through the undertow Tiny gothic soldiers Writing tales of woe Paper walls of the terrarium Feel like bars in a midnight cell Looking down, you see yourself Inside their living hell Maybe life’s just repetition Another ant line in the flow If I vanish into the pattern Would anyone even know Crawl, crawl, crawl In the undertow Whispers in the dirt say Never let it show Crawl, crawl, crawl Through the undertow Tiny gothic soldiers Writing tales of woe Never visit an ant farm when you’re feeling kind of low