The instruments, ruined, in the back,
away from all potential visitors,
even though they're the best you
ever held. Their authenticity is gone.

Your voice seems small,
even though your mouth is tall.
You say too much but mean
too little, stay back.

Stay away, you are too close,
I can't move now, I know she knows
I'm a sad waste of time, and I
don't deserve her. She'll hurt you
without noticing, she's too good for
intended pain.