Walking out from behind the tape,
I'm watched with each step I take.
They see me wear my soul on my skin,
They don't know where to begin.
Point out the faults, point out all I've done wrong,
They hate the sight of a man who should be gone .
I walk to them with sliver platter in hand,
Serve them the ideals and beliefs I got in cans.
They eat every bite and the aftertaste fights it's way back up.
Wow, they sure do hate it but they can't get enough.
After a couple rounds of give and take,
They stand up and tip quite poorly, what do they think I make?
They demand to know how I could serve them such trash.
You call this you? You aren't shit. Why did we even ask?
Tell me that I'm wrong, tell me that I can't be,
Stop smiling, stop loving! Fuck, I think they want to crucify me.
An hour later I stand out on the cross,
I'd be sad but whatever, I served all I got.