Sometimes in the night I see shadows and figures,
And they’re holding me tight with their dagger like fingers,
They move in close and shroud me in pain,
And they drag out my soul and I’m falling again.
Sometimes in the dark when there’s nobody there,
I reach out to the light in pain and despair,
The figures surround me and draw me in close,
And I feel their hands as tight as a noose.
Sometimes when it’s black and day is dead,
I scratch through my skin laying still on the bed,
And although my screams are silent one day someone will hear,
As they’ll be ever nearer and the darkness will clear.