Blood Test

Imagine, that you’re waiting with a friend,
The room is warm with chairs and magazines.
You hear some footsteps then a sort of scream,
A name is called, you answer, it’s not yours.
You stand, and walk a red line round a bend.

And suddenly you’re running down a hall,
You’ve passed the passage that you want to take
But cannot stop; There’s something in your wake
That makes you turn, you turn and nothing’s there,
You’re running and there’s nothing there at all.

You turn again, this time you turn knowing,
It is still there behind you: as your chin
Turns back across your shoulder; as within
Your face starts to feel the fear it's showing.
You must go, but don’t know where you’re going.

And still you run, but now you want to hide,
You’re fast but never far enough away.
You want to stop, you want to stop and say
“Why me?” Then slow enough to understand
You’re really being followed from inside,

And cannot turn the hand or eye within
To pick the vicious molecules apart,
Or separate your tortured heart from heart.
And still you run, and still your heart is raw.
You know because you’re running through your skin.

You know because you’re running down a vein.
You see the desperate massacre of blood,
You feel the brutal slaughter of the god
That fights vast battles for you every day.
You try to speak, you speak but you’re insane.

You try to think and then you try to scream.
You’re lying in a coffin wrapped in wire,
The music ends and now you hear the fire.
It burns in chords which echo through the steam.
You’re suddenly awake. It’s not a dream,

Because once more you’re waiting with a friend
In such a room with chairs and magazines,
You hear some footsteps then you hear a scream,
A name is called you answer, it’s not yours.
With time, you’ll know exactly how it ends.

Time will tell exactly how it ends.