Twisting slowly up the walk.
I wanna get this over quickly.
But my body is not doing what I thought I'd make it do.
The gun is getting slippery.
And my vision's getting blurry.
And I feel a certain panic flowing through me in waves.
But I face the door now
and I notice I am knocking.
I think I hear your footsteps,
or is it my throbbing head?
I see the knob is turning,
as I swallow unsuccessful,
but I'm raising from a sigh
the clouds are parting for the sun.
Won't he listen?
Listen to me.
Won't he listen?
Can't he see?
Let me in.
I'm coming for mother.
Let me in.
Mother f**er.