I'm a little afraid

More like a pitiable wretch state of affairs

Fuck the transplants

Fuck all of you

Desperate melancholy attaches to him

Screaming in the waiting rooms

Harsh backbeat pity

Echoes though their disjointed minds

Isolated exasperated harsh rimmed cold cocked broom-maidens

Clean up his porcelain shades that smashed on their floor

Rope binded and stiff still dignity

Perfect face that's just as easy to break

Inner voices rocking back and forth silent chair on high wheels

A child again stiletto heeled-nightmares in cadence and

Somnambulistic memories through empty stale corridors

Restrain him again because he'll finish us all off

Demand me because you're afraid to die

And it's all for me that you have to live selfish bastard let him die

Time is up, clock shuts up and there's no noises

Anemic children poison blooded babies in dim resonance

He's afraid of them the sick the fat the hideously twisted shapes in lamps

And porcupine quills make up for dying flowers happy music plays on and on and on

And he's so sick; fluorescent paintings of the dim hallways

They're the only light way to his homeplace crawl back into bed

And forget about the grim steel-faced mediocrity that forgets you when you die