This is Dying

Day turns to night, and it's darkening, and this moon shape's a knife, and I'm sharpening, all the crooked ends, to make ends meet, so there's no escaping, this torment that's all in store for you, there's no talking back, cuz I am not in the mood, so we'll play this game, where I'll count to ten, and by ten the fun begins
And you'll scream at the top of your lungs, but you'll see that there's not anyone, who cares, and you'll swear that you're not alone, and it stings when you're lonely and cold, hope you bring all your heart and your soul, to me, and I'll feed on your joints and bones
If I had a choice, I'd want nothing more, than to hear your voice, under 6 feet of floor, and your helpless yell, that's pleading in prayer, just go to hell, hope to see you there, and I'll soon unlock the closed casket for, those who are in shock, and the tears will pour, like a monsoon's flood meets (melts) an avalanche, causing thick quick sand, you're at the water's edge, with your head below, there's no pure oxygen, only H20, this is it my friend, tell me how it goes, when I'm drowning you