The past, however distant, is there for all to see
The present, although less certain, is visible to me
But the future is a door that's locked and no one holds the key
The figure standing locked inside could loosely be called me
I said I could not feel much worse, I've known such inner pain
But truth be told, what scares me most is not inside my brain
So when I am a thunderstorming orbit human stain
It's safe to say I've done my best to throw my life away
Surreal pictures run through my head, much akin to picture shows
They cannot be described without allusions to the days of old
Cunning celestial currents could be all that shape this life
So now how do I kill myself? There's never been a knife