My heart answers to the beck and call of the wind.
There is a storm raging beyond these four walls
And she calls to me.
Do you hear the way the grass whistles my name?
Her voice sends a chill down my spine
And an itching across my skin
To get out.
The windows are shut
To keep the rain from getting in.
The windows are shut
To keep time from getting out.
If the two of us breathe enough times inside this home,
How long would it be until we sucked up all the oxygen,
And we suffocate ourselves,
Or each other,
To death?
Would that be suicide or murder?