I was right. It was bad. It was worse than it's ever been before. He didn't let me rest for the entire weekend. He kept me in the bedroom the whole time, and I never had more than an hour or two's rest, and then the worms came out of his skin. I'm so tired. I'm so tired I can't stand it. I know it was a dream. It couldn't have been real.
The bedroom wasn't really so cold that my fingers were blue.
The walls didn't really turn into the white bricks from the album.
Bill didn't
he wasn't a puppet
there was no girl on The Wall making him do those things to me
and there wasn't the kid in blue standing there and watching and laughing
and Eleanor is not my Mother
None of this is real.
But it was only a fantasy
The Wall was too high, as you can see
No matter how he tried, he could not break free
And the Worms ate into his brain
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