Eyes, they open before you.
Disguised, as little drops of lies.
We admire, while cancer overcomes you.
Benign, and never forced to grow.
Let it grow.
Let it grow.
Don't let the spill I had on the floor,
I had on the floor get you down.
I have you, still I crave something more.
I’m nailed to the floor
to keep you down.
Dear God,
I’m a mess.
I have nothing left.
I stole all my charm from the maker's mill.
Do you love me still?

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