After Hours

I don't even know anymore I don't even know anymore I'm not coming Tell the ferryman I'm staying He gon' have to wait more years for me Dead flowers at the side of the road I stay in my head when I'm all alone I'm captured by my conscience They don't want me thinking too much Maybe that's why they try to starve me I hear voices in the dark after hours Might be my other self or might be a ghost I don't really think about it They ask me if I can breathe I replied softly with a"Hardly" Mic on my chest, laying on the floor Life beats me down Way down, 'til I'm sore And I'm going down further Don't know when I will stop But I pray and hope that it's shortly