Different Ways of Decay

I think I'm rotting on the inside. Way down deep inside my soul... I've built this little coffin that I live in every day. I peek out every day or so to see those ghosts at play. I've got my knife right by my side. I keep it warm, I hold the blade. I want to keep watch, keep hold... For when they come to take my soul away. I've got this fear living inside me. It keeps me crippled and cold. Like a child I lie frozen. I hope these arms won't reach out and take hold. There's blood on my face it keeps me warm at night...