Like cigarettes light ribbons In the red light district Where they intersect like rhythms You look at life through a prism Willing to split the difference, If only for the right schism Elegance takes percision Catch flies with simple syrup, Sacrifice pure vision Truth is a nervous system Balanced on the precipice Of perfect wisdom
Who’s gonna marry me now? Or carry me out? Or stare me down? Downstairs, the fair’s letting out The affair’s getting out Who cares? It’s just sound
Like innocence? Try prison. Like you won’t take deliverance, Whatever hole you find it in. Violence is a given From the other side of the fence, It’s just like television I’ll admit there’s been some dereliction. I’ll seek forgiveness, you get the permissions. Life’s a bit like a burn victim: we see it's Harsh reality, and yet we prefer fiction.
Like, this is nice. But is it worth it? Does it justify it's price? Does it serve it's worthless purpose? Will you heed your own advice? If you want to make it work It’s best to check everything twice In lieu of two new sets of eyes, Incentivize some passersby...
She feels no strings inside her stomach But that doesn’t mean they're not there Much less never were And the audiences love it Their expectations plummet I bring to mind the things she’s signed but She’s long since memorized her lines And she’s terrified in public Objectified by her subjects
“Who’s gonna marry me now? Where are we now? You’re wearing me out.” If you want ‘em to care ten years from now, Then here’s how. Shout:
These things are nice, but it ain’t worth it I been wasted half my life. I been trained to thing I deserve it. I’ve been dumb and deaf and blind.
This ain’t right. I ain’t perfect. I ain’t trying to say... Things are nice. But it ain’t worth it. It ain’t worth it.