Stand up straight
Dipped in crimson
Convenient omission
Not as I predicted
Tunnel Vision
Read my face
My feelings encrypted
I'm Password Restricted
Don't it all seem scripted
Pretend I'm a drone
Locked up in my home
I can't hide
On the Telephone
In the Microphone
My insides
Blood it dries
I feel fine
In my prison
Feeling chased
Clock won't stop ticking
Sweat starts trickling
Been murked to the grave
And have risen