The Tide at its Best

The Tide at its best...

and so here i sit, with out access to my soul.
with the the touch of life running through my veins.
with out the comfort of skin placing me inside.

And so i sit, desperately waiting for some resolution
waiting for this doorbell to wake me up
waiting like a cow in a slaughter house

And so i sit, mutation free?

mutation free... I scream from the heavens

how?
when?
where?
what?