Talking to the Dead

Synapses bloom on the dying tree In the moments and when I see you in my dreams Upright, pale staring straight through the body bag Can't callus my heart when your mouths sewn shut There's a stench in the grain, and it's making me go insane Burning bright lights in the scattered skies Seen through the lense of alabaster eyes I'm talking to the Dead again I'm talking to the Dead again Why are you here? Black benevolent tides continue to rise Shaping my contorted stand I breathe in your demise These four walls, this home, this grave These faculties I can't find, behind your lifeless eyes Is this goodbye or this a game God is making me go goddamn insane What will it take for my peace of mind Until I find the bright lights Fear does not stop death it stops life