Old Fridges

locked inside an old fridge

at the tip just out of town

there is no light i cannot see

and all i can smell is brown

my mates all said this'll be fun

and pushed me in to make me fit

i didn't think until the door snicked shut

and now i'm really in the shit

my crazy racing pulse is helping

to deplete a limited oxygen supply

a little voice inside me is saying

"don't worry it's just another kind of high"

i bang and pummel the door

to no avail, its shut good and fast

i've scratched my fingers bloody to the bone

my demise will soon came to pass

my limited air supply is thinning

i see phosphenes in this muted black

the end of my time a stretched out thin line

and i wish i could take it all back