Reach out, take the green from your eye,
Scratch the sides, take your lips from where they lay,
Scream so loud, the imperfections die,
Ruffle your hair, until it seems a-okay.
Take the blade, from beneath the alice band,
And the towel, from under the basket of hangers,
Sit there stroking pretty crimson patterns with your hand,
While mixing with the smokers, and headbangers.
Stare into their eyes, with a blank facade,
Speak confidently, a language you don't understand,
Sit there wondering if it's raining outside,
And how long until you're caught with your red hand.
Step into the office, with it's dusty and damp stench,
Give them a name, sit on a seat, take a card,
Think about the blade, what you could do with a wrench,
While rocking and shaking, so hard, so hard.
She wants your problems, while you duck and weeve,
She wants to eat your troubled little past,
You're thinking about escape, perhaps pretend to heeve?
It's time you introduced, your mental little cast.
