Vacate is the word...vengeance has no place so near to her
Cannot find a comfort in this world
Artificial tears...vessel stabbed...next up, volunteers
Vulnerable, wisdom can't adhere...
A truant finds home...and a will to hold on...
There's a trapdoor in the sun...it's immortality...
As privileged as a whore...victims in demand for public show
Swept out through the cracks beneath the door
Holier than thou, how?
Surrendered...executed anyhow
Scrawls resolved, cigar box on the floor...
A truant finds home...and a will to hold on, to...
There's a trapdoor in the sun...
Its immortality...
I cannot stop the thought...of running out the door...
Coming up a which way sign...and all good truants must decide...
Oh, stripped and sold, mom...and an auctioned forearm...
And whiskers in the sink...
A truants finds home...and a will to hold on to..
Some die just to live...
Ohh...
Printer Friendly Version