Why can't I bleed this pain I feel
It emanates from my pores
It should look something fierce
Or at least it should look a bit real
But it's gone hiding behind all the ***** and the sleeps and the work
That force the weeks to sink like a stone in my mind
Buried beneath all the filth I convince myself is only a good time
But any fool knows when the bats come the butterflies die
And when the rain comes it's the sky that looks like a fool to cry