I'M Going To the Willard (March 1 2008)

I'm Going to the Willard (March 1 2008) Came in May 1860 with a ringing in my head By 1866 I was dead at the Willard This is my story, the life I led A silver coach dropped me Off at the dumping ground Wearing nothing but a long gown This place is dangerous As nails and boards Fly out at me My hands are callous Trying to flee By crawling on the floor Walking up and Down the halls It never quiets nor stalls nothing like having a demon Inside you screaming Against your will At 3 AM The walls ring out a tune of dark and black Drowning in my fear Of losing myself at the Willard My cries My screams Are silenced by a pill It sits and dissolves Chaulks up my tongue Gazing out the window I count the headstones So I'm going to the Willard Where the rooms are big And the head posts are tall I'm going to the Willard To drink whiskey with the men And dance the Charleston So here I lay I've gone to the Willard To go play dead