I don’t feel like I am real, but I know it’s all imaginary. Are they real and do they feel? Is all the pain just inside my head? I see them always but they’re all inside my head. It’s killing me to see I’m killing you. Death is magic, say Abracadavre now. You see me now, don’t cry when I am gone. These shackles they come with certain opportunities. They won’t let me get away, but they show me we’re the same.