***** you look like you drink black coffee, coffee, coffee
If you valued your face, your bones you would back up off me, off me, off me
***** you look like you drink black coffee
So cold and black on the inside
Trying to appear nice and warm on the outside

You are nothing but a stupid ***** bore
Come on ***** keep your ill-temper and hateful spew down
No one wants to fall victim to your turmoil and bitchiness when you’re around
When you come in, go straight to your office
Everything that is evil, chaotic, and wrong in this place, you’re the culprit
Give me all the blank angry stares and unsympathetic words you got because you’re such a ***** bore and you don’t like my edgy style
Come on, let’s keep bumping heads, and make this place worth my while
***** you look like you drink black coffee
I can’t stand to look at your face, when I do my anger begins
When I first met you, I knew you be a ***** like that
You ******* bore
You ******* ***** bore
I can feel round two coming on, you’re coming back for more
You’re as dull and evil as they come
Humor, fun, and excitement is obviously not where you come from
My fist, your head, the desk
Let’s put this ***** bore to rest
Let’s get excited
Come on
***** you look like you drink black coffee
We don’t want no *****, ***** bore ruining are workspace anymore
Let’s not stop revolting until the tyranny is over
We are taking over
You stupid ******* ***** bore

And she walks around like we’re so inferior to her, oblivious to the fakeness and tyranny she puts us through
And tells us we should be grateful for all that she do
But you’re not going to back me up against a wall with nothing in my hands
***** you better back it up, back it up, back it up right now
Your time is coming, the end is near
How disappointing, how disappointing
So much time wasted in despair
Now whose back is against the wall
You’re still cold, so cold
***** you look like you drink black coffee
You stupid ******* ***** bore
******* ***** bore

There he stands.
He stands where the crows refuse to land
and the tumbleweed tumble around.
Where green is a foreign concept to the flora
that rises from the ashen ground
and the whole field has the atmosphere of a dead place,
forgotten by time.
He stands like a scarecrow that has outgrown it's post
Where most would fall, he stands tall,
like a lamp post, that provides no light at all.
His expression is aloof, but not in an oblivious way.
As if to say that his stoic-ness portrays a tortured wisdom
that makes his knowledge look more alike
to a ball and chain than a virtue or asset.
His composure is limp as if the glue that bands him together
is weeping away and the heavens push down upon him
with both hands.

His palms are loose, his shoulders are sails that he no longer flies.
His hair hangs loose and grey, framing dead and bloodshot eyes.
His jaw hangs but his lips remain tightly knit,
never to part and split their seams
lest you learn anything at all from him.
He has no jouyous thing to share with you.
No pleasant memories that he would care
to cast upon the wall like the beam of a film reel.
The insights he has to teach the world are ones
that would be massly rejected out of repulsion or denial.
You gain nothing from letting this man, most vile,
teach you about the world or society or anything likewise.
You lose something instead.
You lose the peace of mind that you take for granted
as you go about your daily grind.
You lose your ignorance, but only by using it
as the altar upon which to sacrifice your bliss.
He learned much and he certainly learned this.
He eventually started to learn about the things that matter
and by consequence he learned that in credence with them,
his life was a lie by comparison.
He learned that if we are woven by the spinners of the comos
than we will al be found threadbare.
And so, by lack of care, he pas payed the toll.
Filling the spaces of his mind,
and emptying the contents of his soul.

He is the Hollow Man.
He stands far from us in his distant field
knowing well that such a mind
is a much more dangerous weapon to wield.
If you see him whilst on your way,
at least trust me when I say,
that you do yourself a service by staying
far, far away.