Beginning or end?
To lie on the floor in numbness is the daily routine,
And to hear the ticking of the clock as every second passes,
For it gets louder and louder, the seconds longer,
And the pictures on the wall start to dance, then it begins;
You can be anywhere, anything,
Flying through the sky, like a bullet gone astray,
Or talking to the trees, for they have many things to say,
But you always end up in the dark place, talking to death,
And you never know what he will say, for some he says "this is the day,"
But when the dance is done, you can't remeber, has it begun yet, or is this the end?