And from the center of her warm tumor
She calls out,
I know this is a lie!

A dull thud is heard in the distance by us all.

Is she going to keep doing that?

Yes, until the day she dies
With periods of profound silence.

And she never forgives herself
Or at intervals she does,
For all her incessant complaining
I tried really hard.

This is getting difficult
Like walking through curing concrete.

They find their way in,
Though you feel protected at times the shadow versions of umbrellas open up under your skin
And you feel them
The prolific good becomes the prolific horror
Maybe we
Just shouldn't be so prolific...

Ah, to hell with that.
I'll take what I can
And let's find out when.

AH! TO HELL WITH THAT!
I KNOW HOW THIS GOES AND I HATE IT!
SOMEONE-- WAIT NO ONE-- HELP ME!

And So this is how she lives her life
Always aware
Of what she is doing
And there is this thick awkwardness between us
We are not cool
We are fake when we want to be real
And all too real when we wanna be fake
And Jesse Lacey is always cooing in our ears
And they always crop up just like that and there's nothing you can do
And oh, you know what you are

You can't prove what you know
And yes even so
They will still continue to treat you that way

(And when you really go to think of it, shouldn't they?)