In this deathbed I relish my tale of cancer and loss
Pen to paper, I control what you read and what you will feel
Dream weave and speak their nightmares
Bring them down with you
Pitch black tendrils creeping out from ‘neath the door
Chitters sound from somewhere in the shadows’ heart
Gold and glory
A shattered crown restored for you
Gold and glory
My brother bear, be bold and loving
This dark tale fulfills me
It ties loose ends – die of cancer
Can’t change it, we’re locked in and halfway through the album already
Glitches sparking from behind the bathroom door
Perhaps I die of old age rather than cancer
Change the subject here and now