All I have to feed me now are plates of empty words
worse than any taste I've known, unsuitable for birds

With my hands I shovel in the sustenance I need
but quite the opposite it does, internally I bleed

Worlds of love and unmasked hate begin war in my eyes
and every time I close them I can see things I despise
 
So I ask you, tell me now - when did you last eat?
let me give you what I made, come and take a seat