Show me your face.
I’m asking for guarantees; the ones that you hide behind the make-up,
the subtext of your actions left to hide behind the eyes.
Playing cloak-and-dagger with emotional drama is a sure-fire way to cause further trauma.
Can we agree to tear down our borders and find a new way to speak?
And please line up and say your names; I forgot you all.
The policy in play is an eye for an eye, and you already took mine.
Show me the real face that you hide from me.
I didn’t think I was asking for much before I saw the look you gave.
Fame has no place in my desires and I’ll live long enough without touching it.
My soul was on display and you collectively turned your backs:
The choreographed locomotive fallback when you’re given something different.
We live lives with our boxes and we can’t figure it out:
Some things don’t fit where we want them to.
Show me that face you’ve used to disarm me.
I’m running out of ways to see you in a positive light.
My patience was stretched so thin it turned into the dust on your circuit board.
I tried to connect and tried to fight, but I found you were like the rest;
They churn you out of factories and discard all the best.
Your name is a series of numbers I can’t be fucked to know.
It was my mistake for joining your freak show.
It was my mistake for doing what I was told.
Some people just can’t be reasoned with.
( ❤ Mitch)