Sometimes I imagine you listen when I speak,
Instead of eyeing me up like candy,
And when you couldn't have me anymore,
You flayed my flesh and laid it out on the porch.

Do I look young?
Do I look fresh?
Am I a lamb who's legal to touch?
Do I look dumb?
Do I look plush?
Am I a lamb who's legal to touch?

Now I go to meet someone new,
But all I can hear is this fear,
That they'll have me only because,
I've got these wide, large eyes,
With a slim, slender physique.

Water me down, flower kid,
To a seed in the ground.

There's no such thing as wanting to die,
You're just a silly sad butterfly,
Plummeting gracefully from the sky.

Caught in this trap,
One made by my own hands,
At least that's what I tell myself,
Am I just a cog in a turning machine?

Ballerina come 'round,
Look at me in the face,
Drop your guard now,
Get out of this nightmare.

When my voice is so loud,
How do you not hear me speak?
When I tell you these words,
About the pain I have felt,
You only speak from the pain that you've dealt.

Everyone watches my mess,
Seeing as I continue to confess,
To the times that I committed crimes,
Crimes that hurt as I wrote these rhymes.

And so.
In a process of elimination,
From head to toes,
I found that my conscience was guilty,
A list is cannot write but only feel,
What if I said I wasn't sorry,
For once.

Everyone watches my mess,
Seeing as I continue to confess,
To the times that I committed crimes,
Crimes that hurt as I wrote these rhymes.

There's a place that I wanna go,
Somewhere that I've never gone,
Someplace that I wanna stay,
And leave this troubled place.

Here come the red lights,
Red hair and suit coat,
Laden in sinners blood,
What else would he be but bold.

Escape the body I feel,
Maybe I'll be on my knees,
Never ever breaking free,
Of the confines I write.

Here come the red lights,
Red hair and suit coat,
Laden with sinners blood,
Who else would I know.

There's a place I wanna be,
To exist and never leave,
Till my body dies and stuck there,
While I'm off in space without a fare.

The Exxon curb is my home,
For the next five minutes it is my own,
It's few feet of curb that I won,
By sitting and drinking my green tea.

This is my chrome golden lair,
Under heaven's blessed stairs,
Where the lights go out suddenly,
And I'm finding myself stumbling.

Don't have enough time to wander the city,
I'll be home by the time it's dark,
Cause I don't care except when you're calling me,
Please don't talk to me like that.

This is my chrome golden lair,
Under heaven's blessed stairs,
Where the lights go out suddenly,
And I'm finding myself stumbling.