These Are They - By Phaeton's Design

I open my eyes to the darkness
Finding it hard to adjust, vertigo raping my sences
The pain in my skull is severe

Bones in my face are shattered
This body is beaten and torn
Hand are bound behind my back
As I lay in the blood of my own

Feeling the road beneath me, jarring my body abound
This plastic that surrounds me
Restricting my movement at all
I can hear their muffeled voices
Conversing my fate, leading me to seclusion
To be dumped in a shallow grave

I'm not ready to die
I suffer in death by phaeton's design

The road has become more silent
Moving on softer ground
Traveling speed has lessened
The final approach is now

Fear has overwhelmed me
Causing my thoughts to run
What will become of my family?
What have they done with my son?
The lid of my vessel is opened
And I'm dragged out on to the floor
Ribs in my chest are breaking
From the beating I now endure

My body is broken and lifeless
Dropped in this shallow hole
The dirt now rains upon me
And the reaper welcomes me home

I'm not ready to die
I suffer in death by phaeton's design