You always knew it would happen again:
The ruby beams, the whispered code, the silhouettes, and then
A muffled crunch, a stifled cough, a soft and cryptic knock,
A latch that wasn’t fastened on a door that didn’t lock.
They’ll catch you, they’ll break you,
They’ll wipe you for sure.
They know your every step and stop:
Where you are, where you’ll be,
Exactly where you were.
What did you feel when your mind was removed?
Was it hard, sharp and painful, or satiny smooth?
Do you weep in the dark, do you know in your heart
That they kept you intact when they tore you apart?
Does your lurching awareness obsess on your doom?
Do those tiptoeing whispers leave prints in your room?
Keep moving, keep hiding, till death brings the end.
They’re just around the corner, they’re just around the bend.
Go leap out the window, go slip through the trees,
Burn the leaves in your journal and bury your keys.
Haunt the alleys and rails as you sneak town to town,
An eye on your back and an eye on the ground.
So what did you glean when they retooled your brain?
Did you think you were God, a file, or insane?
Are you groping for clues in the patterns they weave?
Is a single thing real in the world you perceive?
They’re coming. Keep running. Don’t let yourself fall behind.
They’re searching through your blackest dreams, escorted by the blind.
They’re watching from the shadows, their burning eyes aligned.
They’re waiting in the dark around the corner of your mind.
