This sickness eating away at me
Twisting my bones
Rotting my brain
This slow deterioration
Of my fragile grip
On mortality

My ghost is standing in the doorway
Looking at what's left of me

Drowning
In dust
Fading
Like a memory

Am I dying
Or am I already dead
Am I six feet under
Or decaying under the cruel Kansas sun

Lost in the sleep of the breathless
Gasping for air
Grasping at demons
The curse of every sunrise
Dragging my corpse
Against the chains

My ghost is standing in the doorway
Looking at what's left of me

Drowning
In dust
Fading
Like a memory

Am I dying
Or am I already dead
Am I six feet under
Or decaying under the cruel Kansas sun

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