Down where corpses are covered in blood, rot, and marrow

Some with a noose still hung around their neck, the escape goat

Maybe some slit their own throat, what's up with the bullet holes?

Organs spilling out of open wounds, bodies pile up like a rigor mortis fortress

Lava rises up your throat, full throttle, scorching your insides

You walk the path of dried guts and tears, fears echo in the air

Your hands are red and bloody again. You did that. You listened

Rip off the skin on your lips, wipe your mouth. It isn't a fun journey, is it?

Ash and spit, winged monsters thrash and bite, covered in soot and grit

Prodding at you to do it

Don't

Please don't

That's not how you get out of here

It's easy to get lost in the underworld

You follow a simple thought down

In the gates of Hell, the faucet wells

But wow, it sure is hard to find your way out