You can fight. You can fade out. But try to trust the tide. Sucked into something.
It's a need. You're a native on islands never seen.

Magnifying tiny cracks on the surface floor but not for sure.
Desperate to respirate. Breathe a life into the coffin.

You're a fool. You're a slave there. A magnet in your face. Caught in a wrinkle
Undercut your intentions. Intending to pretend.

Freshen up your zombie stare. Mold it in the shape of Jupiter.
More than this you've lost your wish never to return to the enemy. Run from me.