I don't know who I am anymore

I'm lost in the yet unwritten pages

I don't know where I've been, or where to go

In this night so quiet and

Still I'm waiting for my muse

To still the clicking of these worn-in keys I can't bear to leave

Oh, and still I'm waiting for my muse to come

And still the beating of this lonely heart

Into the threshold I'll create my last resort (still I'm waiting for my muse to come)

And save me from this horror story I wrote (and still the screaming in this horror story I wrote)

Words come into view, through sound and image transformed

Reborn a beast on screen, attention starved in every scene

A projector reels through my eyes, filmed live on set Saturday night

And you'll take in every

Still I'm waiting for my muse to come

And shine their light onto this darkened heart

Into the threshold I'll rewrite my last resort (still I'm calling for my muse to come)

And save me from this living nightmare I wrote (and break the cycle in this living nightmare I wrote)

I won't let the darkness guide me further than it has.