This man of judgment rots empty by day
The anger in his words means little to me
Inside the pale facade of riches and life
The blackness of his heart presently showing through
To bring doom
Now
Cutting through your vacant body won't hurt
Me as much as I hope it hurts you
Stop reaching out with your whispers
They mean less than your screams
You pray as if the words translate to something outside yourself
I see things not as you see them
But for how they are
Turn your back upon the sun for one last time
After which I should be alone at last
Eternally in my mind
No more faces to detract from thoughts
Make this mean less each day
Blankly you stare at yourself
Mirror image should show you the lack of relevance
Consume yourself consumer!
Open your pockets let us in
Open your thighs and fake a grin
Open signs even when you turn it around
