You’ve been dressed well tonight,
little shell that sold herself to see the light-
See how the light has left your eyes
Blank face, and your jaw keeps moving,
Your mouth streams fallacies and your eyes lie fallow,
the organic matter of truth
became the fallow fields of ignorant dreams
Unceasing movement from which your subconscious streams,
That began rotting early in your youth.
You see, they’d rather dress you well,
Cover the patches of dirt with what they want you to be,
Tuck flaws under tight jeans,
Insert credit cards where there might have been meaning,
Then admit that what they are taking
is more destructive then what they are replacing.
Still, her corpse was half price, and you dressed her up nice,
Took her out for the night, and danced with mannequin hands
Until the patches of dirt under her skin began to hurt,
And she is layed in fallow lands, the fields of failures and dreamers
who could no longer refrain from haunting the empty eyes,
And return to the land where thoughts have been banned,
Collected, canned, and kept in whorehouses
for the next narrowly escaped apocalypse.