These are the rats
They are climbing the walls
These are the rats, the thieves, the thugs, the murderers
They are coming in packs, with knifes, with guns, with no regrets
It’s not what they said
It’s not what they did
It’s not what happened
It’s what you did to them
Broken ribcage
Fractured bones
Further downstairs
Hope is lost
Keep thinking of places to wither away
I can think of any so I’m here to stay
Discouraged and widowed, not ever the same
I’m going to lay here beside you and wait