You're Only What You SeeI hear them say, one by one, each in their own little way, "I'd like to know that somebody cares, even if it were only for a day." Every thought is simply embedded in the back of their heads, shackled to the complex corners of their walls, transfixed in a grotesque fashion on a detest day, strewn upon the strands of their lives like a feeble flower withering in the pestilence of their waning spirit. Once in a weary morning, you wake aloft to the promising scent of life, its pleasance and prominency assuring the independant happiness that expands inside of you. A few years later, on behalf of my desirous heart, I shall hear them say one by one once more, lacking their fear, "I know that somebody loves me somewhere out here."
The DoorThere's a whore at the door.Knock her out on the floor.Damn straight, she's sore.Go ahead, give her more.Close your ears, she'll implore.You're the one who she tore.Look at you, hardcore.