you think i'm paranoid?

look in the fucking mirror

the prodigal son returns

no, i don't want to hear it

in your eyes, a bloated disgrace

doped up kid with a chubby face

seeking approval from the dead

but trust me, it's not all in my head

they keep calling me

cause i've been through it all

buried in a box

and i can hear them all

they hide in the shadows

they whisper in my head

they creep through the hallways

they hide beneath my bed

i know i'm not deluded

i can see the dead

and i can hear them calling

and i can feel the dread

they keep calling me

cause i've been through it all

buried in a box

but i can hear them all

they keep haunting me

now i'm just falling

buried in a box

through the head she was shot

now i'm just moving on

they keep haunting me

now i'm just falling

buried in a box

through the head she was shot

now i'm just moving on