trapped with the keys smothered by the cigarettes I smoke by the closed windows
and the show must go on even when the curtains are drawn and we forget that we are the show we write the script and assign the roles
we see the old hag staring at us and see our shame reflecting from her glasses we see our carelessness on her lipstick stained teeth red like the map scribbled on the wall
our ****-ups are scribbles a map of carelessness and backfired precautions and we keep doing and we keep going hitting the wall again and again to change it or break it or change ourselves but we just end up with stained teeth and the reflection of ****.
we see the world through our minds, no further than whats in the back of our minds.