Routine is common in the mind, disturbing focus one last time.
Falling behind, is your fiction pre-defined?
Slipping through, like nothing’s in view, smoke cant undo, the static in you.
Waiting for the bell to chime, resounding all around your mind.
Speaking inside, speculations hushed but wild.
I’m falling off the end, come down with the Bends, derailed yourself again.
I’ve fallen off the end, come down with the Bends, derailed yourself again.