The Treachery Of Images

The volume is up again. Closing the spaces left within this room
To watch instead, it's light somehow will wash this out, this image
From playing out with programmed time
I'm moving in circles here, just watching this gun, these hands
These hours are losing count
Waiting, wishing, there was a way to stop this
I can't help it now. This light somehow will wash it out, this image
From playing out and keeping time
Believing in all I fear, I'm breathing out, this repeating line
The last thing I'm seeing, is bleeding in through the sound
Just turn it up again. But I don't know this... wash out the images
And hoping that it might that it just might, not come
Again you turn and watch the screen, get up do anything you can