It's not because they didn't want too,
It's because they were worried about what someone might say.
Being judged or made to fell less than what you are, we've all felt this way.
Is it not time we all grew up become abit mature.
Because when it comes to accepting we could all do a little more.
We're to busy in our own we worlds only worried about our own crew.
And thinking of anyone else isn't what we do.
This earth is like a toolbox
And each one of us are a different tool,
So if we're judging others we're really just a fool.
Because we're all here for a similar reason, but to do different things.
So nobody really is the big rope
We're all just little strings.
On our own we aren't as great as we think we are.
Because how pretty is the sky when it only has one star.
So think before you judge someone as they are more than what you can see,
Truth is that you might just be the lock and they could be the key.

Everybody sits in quiet contemplation
Breathing like they want no one else there
If they were a thousand tiny films
Their songs are syncopations.

Long before the scene fades out
You left the cinema, you gave no credit
To roll, nor any role to set it as you said
With that unironic smile,
It wouldn’t matter if you were dead.

You said, you’d rather be unkind
Than to say what’s on your mind
Sizing up the mountain in the room
With that cord wound up
And that knife in your mouth
I know I said I wouldn’t call you out

On it, but you’re a thief
So don’t steal, I can see it in your eyes
You’re a pro
At moving right between lines.

So where was I in your big production?
Just the money shot in all seduction?
Thumbs down and out moving out
We’re all our worst critic, but don’t walk out on the show
I’m unconvinced; this is first of many episodes

Take a good hard look at the million frames
Think of all the things you cast in my name
But in the dream of mine, timeless in birth
It would break your heart like up there in the scene
If you could bear to see it up on screen:
The script isn’t how it was meant to be.

You broke your little girl.

You dropped her head
in a boiling ***
and the pressure
broke her skull.

Fished her out
and set her
in the sun to
dry and dry and dry.

Your neglectful hands
left her there to turn
the color of things
trapped between train tracks.

And now she exists.
You can hear her
but you don’t understand
what she’s screaming.