Thought Process

Bright, white, clean-smelling room
Bed in the center, where I'm sulking in gloom
With nervous eyes, I look around
I can hardly move a muscle, so tightly I'm bound
*Click*
...
Suddenly it's dark...dark...dark...
And I hear Bloody Mary making her mark on
The mirror of glass in front of my bed
"Surely," I think, "they've left me for dead."

A gurgling scream rises up from my throat
Writhing around, I reach for the note that
Will safe me from her griping hands
But to my horror I grab some man's leg

That I know wasn't there before
Throwing it out I fall hard to the floor
It's following me as I run away
Oh, how I wish I had a way out

Of this room that they've locked me in,
Cell I've been stuck within
All of my life
And I see Mary coming for me with her knife

And this leg seems to have a life of its own
Why it's coming for me, I simply don't know
And I'm stuck, and I'm stuck, and I'm stuck, and I'm stuce
And I'm dead
...