Lend me your tiny ears and
tie them in a loosened knot,
and listen to the one wish I have, now
lend me your eyes and I'll see the world you see,
and when the clock strikes twelve,
I'll still bear a grudge, a hatred, a sin so
lend me those lips but I'll only say the truth
for that's a thousand heavens louder than
the lies that they speak without blinking an eye,
child, lend me the air that you say you can't live without,
but can you really smell the corruption
in these days to come, or the blackened hearts
of people who do not know what it's like
to love a person and not an object?

Will you lend me the touches to your skin and
the shivers up your spine for
these hands has long lost
precious Mother Earth's touch? So please
lend me your arms so warm, so tender,
and maybe they'll warm me up however twisted
the truth really is, but you can run from it
so do lend me your strong legs
that you use to escape reality sometimes;
run to a place you can finally call home,
and run around the home you find peace in
in the mucky fertile soil but still
clean up after you've returned to your house.

Maybe you can lend me the stomach
that they say all chemicals and nutrients charge in
with an angry roar and all the dissolved acid and hatred
are so noisy and unrested inside.
And although it's so near the stomach and
surely just as noisy but it sure proved me wrong
as the peace and quiet resides in it.
Child, lend me the lungs that
you breathe the rotting and selfish air with
and surprisingly not dying of the pollution of
the scent of money, power and lust.
Something greediness eats up sometimes,
but I guess everyone's just a little hungry.

Dozing red, lend me your blood that's so
warm and comfortable and alive, and it's
something I would have still flowing in my veins
if I were still human right now, and I'd like to also
have the thing that brings the warmth around,
so selfish of me but make it my birthday present:
lend me your beating heart gently slow,
and I'll make a promise with it that
whether the truth comes out, borrowed or not,
I'd come back someday with it still
unharmed and undestroyed,
perfect like it's sapphire, and
I always keep my promises so your
heart's safe with me.

If ever so possible, lend me your soul,
something given nine months before you
were given a name and roof above your heads
but I'm seeing your soul and
yours is a rare pure-white ashen glow,
like the unfading snow in cold winter times and
lend me the words right out of your mouth,
and I'll turn them into daggers so strong that
they'll pierce through the wall of lies,
and tear down whatever's left,
though we know that pain's always left behind
but you can lend that to me,
and I'll fight with the pain alongside my pride,
because it's not so painful anymore
if you have another person to
share the burden with.

Please lend me, child, everything you have,
but nothing you should ever give away—

And the justice's went and turn its back,
the cape still blown by yesterday's breeze;
to the blinding light, and it's already gone
into a wasteland no-one-knows.
So for now, just lend me the truth,
just once is enough;
because I've lost it all and
the truth will never come back again—

I've lost the light, I've lost it all.