You’re the singer standing in front
Of a standing ovation
Trying to hide behind a microphone
Because you cannot comprehend
How bright you are
Actually shining

After Sunday you stink of hypocrisy
Please don't waste your breath preaching to me
To me it's one big joke
as you line up for the punch line
Wearing your see through clothes
and flaunting your plastered eyes
Keep funding your guilt
as I kick back and criticize
Pockets full of change
I wound not spare a dime

Flickering halo

Comatose and forgotten

Abandoned

On the corner of despondency

......and shame

Mutilated with the scalpel of false hope

Exacerbated ruin

Razor thin backbone

Just another ill-fated cliché

A dweller of the peripheral

Entrapped by screaming silence.