• Alone in a white room,

    Sitting in a black chair.

    Where is there to run?

    Nowhere.

    No doors.

    No windows.

    Just walls.

    Four small walls.

    Voices talk to me,

    But there's no one there.

    "Get out!" I say,

    "Leave me alone!

    Go away!"

    They don't leave.

    They don't care.

    Oh, how I wish I could stop them.

    How I wish I could hit them with this black chair.

    But my arms are bound around me,

    By this jacket that won't let me go.

    I'm tired of hugging my self.

    I'm tired of having my hair in my face.

    I can't move,

    I'm stuck in place.

    I begin to grow weary.

    I try to stay awake,

    But the feeling won't leave me.

    "Pray the Lord my soul to take."

    There's no use in trying.

    I'm already dead as far as I'm concerned.

    The voices don't bother to sooth me.

    They don't give sympathy.

    So I just sit there,

    Frayed and worn.

    How much longer will it be...

    Until I'm completely torn?

    I close my eyes,

    And wait for my doom.

    I wonder while I sit, alone.

    Alone in a white room.