Second Hand - Broken Thoughts

Second Rate-
Second Place-
Waste of space-

Well that makes you doesn't it
To be compared to waste, upon me yet no one

willingly sell my body soul myself doesn't it
Well that makes you doesn't it, doesn't it, makes me what ?

Space, empty, waste of place, space second,
Used and worn, hand-me-down piece of

Role forced upon me didn't i but willingly sell myself to be
Doesn't it, doesn't it ?

Well that makes you second hand doesn't it ?

Every little helps
Squeemish, feel it swirling and black,
Hands to my face-mouth blood

White red blood every little
Willingly make myself scum mother- you meant it

NOT THIN JUST F-A-T
Don't listen to me just yet while i
make myself a waste of space, second hand, second-rate
No one wants a faulty- sell

Me want me, touch not me- cause i am faulty
Well that makes you- doesn't it - empty

Well that makes you second hand doesn't it ?