we are here.
barricaded in a smokey room.
lying in sheets seven days *****.
we are here.
cut from falling in line with laugh tracks,
no more oooohs and ahhhs at digitized images.
we are here.
we've stopped pretending to like the symphonic pieces.
you'll listen to your ****** femme rock,
and I'll listen to Dan Bejar fake his english accent.
we are here.
the journey doesn't make sense.
but we found our place, and I've got one request.
we are here.
so, please don't take me for who I am.
who I am is ****.
force me into the colors,
make me drink the fevers,
cast me in all your favorite plays,
read me Hank's poetry,
make me a new holy.
we are here.
no need to waste the opportunity.