Rewriting Song Lyrics to Fit My Story

Before you read on,

Listen to Time is Running Out by Muse

Or better yet, listen to it, while you read my version.

You had me drowning, asphyxiated

I wanted to break this spell that you created

You're something beautiful, a contradiction

I hate to play the game but, I love the friction

You would be the death of me

Yeah, you became the death of me

Buried it,

You fucking buried it

You fucking smothered it

You fucking murdered it

And our time is running out

And our time is running out

You keep pushing it underground

You won't stop me screaming out

I wanted peace, spiralled and lost control

I tried to give you up, but I was addicted

Now that you know I'm trapped, your sense of elation

You can’t let go to break my fixation

You are squeezing the life out of me

Buried me

You fucking buried me

You fucking smothered me

I let you fucking murder me

And our time has run out of life

And our time has run out of life

You pushed it way underground

You made me scream it out

How did it come to this?

♫ Ooh, yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah

Yeah, you sucked the life out of me

Buried me

You fucking buried me

You fucking smothered me

I let you fucking murder me

And our time has run out of life

And our time has run out of life

You pushed it way underground

You made me scream it out

How did it come to this?

♫ Ooh, yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah

The Song:

The song speaks to me as sung by someone who is feeling trapped in a hostile (toxic if you will) love and yet the addiction of it all keeps them bound to their love all the while fighting to keep their love alive and not rot away themselves, in the process. The song's aggression is their pledge to remain despite the hurt and the ticking timer.

My story; prose poetry.

For me, the lyric "our time is running out" depicted my own strife with the concept of love, if I am to disassociate the intimacy and the person; until it didn't and I had to rewrite it to fit my own narrative, and hence I did.

I was given a timer, a tenner. I waited until the ball would be pitched, but it never was. And while I waited, "our time was running out" until I realized, already, "our time has run out of life." There is no going back. While they sang of a pledge and while they sang of remaining, I rode on my train. While they sang of holding on, and while they sang that they won't let love be buried, smothered, and murdered, I cried as I realized —

my love had already been buried, smothered, and murdered. And life had been sucked out of me.