DEFENDER'S RAP

• Seems I've lost all sense of time as well as my breath and sight
• The fear my death is nigh is all I smell to quell this fright
• Is quite impossible it's got a hold upon my soul so tight
• It's like I want to... no, I got to go though I don't know what's right
• In front of me even under me what I'm seeing is nothing because
• All I see is darkness it's hard to breathe in my lungs they need
• Oxygen (how can this be?) it seems logic has left
• Damn near preposterous pondering past tense
• How'd I get here? Where is here? Never will I get a good grip here
• Laying flat but cannot sit (weird) seems nothing truly exists here
• Especially not the light of day night or day I can't call it
• It's anybody's guess I guess hibernation or coffin
• Last time I checked it I was next to certain I was human
• So I guess the former's out of the question it's turned into an
• All too real living nightmare thoughts racing I need analysis
• Claustrophobic all I hope and pray is it's sleep paralysis
• Massive hallucination seemingly I can't escape from
• Momentarily I'm stuck but sooner or later I should wake up
• Right? Why stress? Relax your mind
• Chest seems to tighten every second the tension is high
• Breath is leaving again stale air's all that I'm breathing in and
• My heart rate's increasing teeth bleeding from kneading them, when
• Any and all attempts to inhale's a struggle or means to an end
• Seems that we need to pretend...
•  
• Stop! You've not been locked inside of a box
• And buried beneath the murky earth immersed in dirt to rot, alright?
• Stop! You've not been locked inside of a box
• And buried where all the worms emerge from soon to be forgot
•  
• Got nothing but intrusive thoughts suffocation I'm losing all
• The clean air that was left inside wherever I am pressurized
• Within this air is thick I sense the scent of death awareness isn't
• Everything wish I could do anything but reminisce
• I'm petrified much like the wood I feel surrounding
• No chance of breaking through and even then what would amount
• If nothing but the rushing down six feet at least of muddy ground
• An almost instant death as opposed to lying dying in this dismal mess
• A trickling sweat dribbles down my brow the sound of little wet
• Droplets hitting timber sends a shiver; how is this the end?
• I pinch my leg I feel it I guess it's really real then
• Never in my life would I have guessed I'd ever deal with this
• Concealed away soon to be forgot if not already
• Out of sight, out of mind; am I to stop pretending?
• And just live in spite of time with the fact I cannot hide?
• In truth there's nothing scarier I'm buried alive
•  
• Stop! You've not been locked inside of a box
• And buried beneath the murky earth immersed in dirt to rot, alright?
• Stop! You've not been locked inside of a box
• And buried beneath secluded grounds never to be found... stop!