Floating has no boundaries;
Why shouldn't she be scared?
Nothing to grab on to;
She's come so ill-prepared.
She lives out her days,
With a clock in her eye,
The ticking drives her mad,
So her sanity is not a thing,
On which she can rely.
So she cannot perform;
Without her lonely mask at hand,
Nothing matters anymore.
Up the stage,
Across the floor,
She sees a door that will not cease,
To evade her thirst for freedom;
Her blood aches for release.
She seems as if she won't let go,
She's been hanging on so long,
Her fingers are now just brittle ash;
Soon they'll snap right off.
She's holding cool and chilling breath,
Trapping it inside her lungs;
If there's a single thing that she still wants,
It's something she can call her own.
She soon drops to the ground,
So far from that door,
Hands and knees,
To polished floor,
Her hands are desperate but hidden in shade,
Her mind can't let go but her limbs can't hold on;
It's taking her so long to fade.