I don't know
I think I saw something move
Maybe it's my mind
Tricking itself out of groove
I mean it's a little dark
Caves aren't supposed to not be
I feel a distinct disquiet
Is there something I cannot see
The guard mentioned
I'm the first in fifty years
That it was a photographer
Must have spurred my fears
Almost done, I think I'll turn around
Those pits in the wall are not still
Changing places
Perhaps ants making an anthill
There's someone here alive
Or at least you feel that way
I must have strayed in my thoughts
But I don't know what to say
Sort of a whisper
Asking me to carry on
Almost a pleasant soothing voice
Pulling me like a weighty ton
