Bubonic
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How many times must I speak your name
So many times, too many times
Presumed to be a stone, just look how much I've bled
So much I've bled, too much I've bled
Exhausted by words that seem to pour out of me
Festering rot, cut out the rot
Frightened by prospects, what the future will bring
Bubonic lust, bubonic love
Living within, counting the sins
No antidote I cannot sure myself of this want
Can't be a need
Like an addict this fix is what I feed
Rotting, my best efforts desiccating
Slowly I realize, no form of alchemical recovery exists
Terminal attempts to stop this plague
Thoughts that should vacate continually stay
Buried deep within an untouched place
Far beyond my reach it breeds dismay
Shadow of a shadow with no face
Thwarting all attempts to grow to change
Cryptonesiac thoughts of better days
A primate on my shoulder with no name
Take a look as it seeps from me