I run and run and run
from a thing that has no form
a thing made in my mind
a thing that wasn't born.

it screams at me through a muffled voice
a voice from in my head
it never quiets quits or stops
I wish that I was dead.

What you ask is this thing
this thing that has no form
this killer thing this evil thing
this thing that wasn't born.

it isn't one but many things
these little things that kill
they are my thoughts from my own head
these things I wish weren't real.

But they are, and now I'm scared
I've tried to run I've tried to hide
I've tried to go for that I've dared
I wish that I could end this ride.

Now I stop I've given up
these thoughts that I've disown
they're free to do as they please
that chills me to the bone.