I'm an empty room with no paint on the walls
Filled with broken hopes and empty thoughts
The wood is caving in and people come through to see and touch
As soon as they linger too long they realize the empty room upsets them too much
They hear ventriloquists song, the wood carving words as silent nursery rhymes and shallow one verses lullabies
The windows are broken and the wind waltzes in, it towers under the floorboards and swallows the bad parts in
Schizophrenic slumber parties with sandman and death, fascist following of whoever is next
The vines slither in, deceivingly vile, stealing all the smiles and sorrowful trials of the men in their nightgowns and high heels so tall, everything started to grow so small
The table outside the door has a bottle of the last person to exits drug of choice, it makes it worth the while