scratching names in the walls of my cell

there is no dirt under these fingernails
i fucking chew them all the time
i sharpen the nails to tiny points
i lick away all the grime

the grime from scratching the walls
of the cell that I am trapped in
i've mixed the paint with blood now, honey
i'm nose deep in sin

the sin that i am so in love with
would i have it any other way?
if i did would i know this
would i know everything i'd have missed

but i missed that, i still miss that
that one chance at burning alive
oh, i'd have enjoyed the flames
i'd have burned bright for nights

now nights are all i have
drenching me in dark thoughts
i'm still alone in my head
even my monsters have left me alone

so alone i live and alone i'll die
surrounded by everyone else
if i leave maybe they'll find
names scratched in walls of my cell

--
Why, oh why am I dreaming of alien graffiti again. This one is about how you're always alone in your mind, and no matter how close people get to you, only you know what's there in your head. Am i right or am i wrong?