Eedee - "Death Row" [Week 7]

by **Eedee** Fri Nov 16, 2012 4:24 am

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Week 7 of 8

*So, this is a concept story-telling track. Hope you enjoy!

I'm facing these bars I got scars on my face,
Long are the days thinking hard as I pace.
Around this room, these walls are closing in fast,
My time on this earth is dwindling and knowing this fact
Eats at me, itches me, I'm scratching for a way out
I'm twitching, flipping out, it happens every day now.
I can hear the keys jingling, I need to ease into it,
"He's fidgeting" of course I am, I'm seeing the end of it.
I bend a bit, stretching my back
With every pop that I hear, I pause, letting it last.
I'm betting the fact that I'm in this prison cell
I'm hitting Hell with every breath, it isn't sitting well.
I stare at the wall thinking it'll open up
But it only opens to my brain and lingers on the broken stuff.
This golden touch of mine has faded with the time I've spent
In this cell with muscle loss, fucking toss up - I'm a mess.

I'm having a row with death, sitting on death row,
I'm lost in this life and I'm wishing for less hope.
Feeling for something there...
Sitting on death row, just end it while I fucking care.(x2)

It's tightening, it's frightening, the lightning right outside my room
I'm a quiet screw, sighting in my scopes, nope, I am too
much of a loser, a fucking abuser,
Looking death in the eye like I was punching a cougar.
But I tigress, nah, that's just my deadly sense of humor,
The guy I used to be is gone, I'm barely getting used to
all this commotion around me is like a calm before the storm,
Emotions surround these days long and door is closed.
With a slam... can you picture man,
Livin' out his days in comfort but the sickest plan
Is already in action, the passion has burnt out
Slippin' on ice with no traction, it worked out.
I awake from this cat nap to find a knapsack,
Food and bottled water was tucked inside the backpack.
That's sad that they wanna call to raise time,
I've said sorry for this hate crime but I think I've all but paid mine...

They open up the cell and they tell me to come,
I wear this evil grin over-selling the rush.
Inside I'm screaming "help" but nobody even cares
There's reasons that I'm almost dead, cuz freedom's fair.
I arrive upon the chair, I sit down, they strap me in
I couldn't eat my last meal, and then they ask me this:
"Would you please say your last words", you bastards...
"Life is too short for this disaster"
With that they swabbed my arm, I felt a prick, they laid me back
I shake this fact I'm about to die, and then it fades to black...