I've got a cupboard with cans of food, filtered water, and pictures of you and I'm not coming out until this is all over
and I'm looking through the glass where the light bends at the cracks and I'm screaming at the top of my lungs pretending the echoes belong to someone someone I used to know
and we become silhouettes when our bodies finally go
I wanted to walk though the empty streets and feel something constant under my feet, but all the news reports recommended that I stay indoors
because the air outside will make our cells divide at an alarming rate until our shells simply cannot hold all our insides in, and that's when we'll explode (and it won't be a pretty sight)
and we'll become silhouettes when our bodies finally go
