Speak to me now, my friends,
I'm trading all of my companions for attention,
dwelling in an abandoned theater's spotlight and short lived rides home.

Laugh at me now, my dear,
I swear to God I wont lash back,
I've found immunity to the sadness that pairs itself with being alone.

Yell at me now, my mentor,
though we both know that I'm not the problem,
you've singed your hands in your fire and now you turn to me for answers.

Hate me, my conscience,
I wanted to be an artist or a saint,
I'm finally understanding that I don't have what it takes.