If I asked you to love me,
Would you never let me go?

If I told you I felt like crying,
Would you proceed to make it all okay?

If I asked you what forever meant,
Would you demonstrate for me?

If I asked the above questions in a deviation,
Would you click it just because you thought it was another one of these?

If I asked you why you did it,
Would you tell me "because they're cute"?

If I asked you what kind of talent it REALLY requires to do this,
Would you say it requires any?

If I asked you to support REAL artists,
Would you promptly leave this page?

Anybody who left by now can do naughty things to their hat.

Tell my confidence that I am dead
So it can close its eyes
And then go back to bed
Just like another of its twisted games
Where when I need it most
It up and runs away

Could you remind me that you need to know
The nature of my feelings
That I couldn't show
While you were living life and making plans
I watched the sands of time
Fall through my trembling hands

While you were learning how to make your name
I was still at home
Locked inside my brain
Spinning thoughts out on a different plane
I was a little different
And we were both insane

In my bed we could be saying things
While on the ceiling
Movies of our lives would play
But there's a silence crawling through this place
Like I'm still all alone
Remembering your taste

Guilt and shame walk hand in hand through this little piece of hell on earth;
Through empty streets, Infested alleys and crooked lanes wheere children play in the filth,
All that can be heard is the sound of the dead crying.
The streets are paved with the bodies of those who couldn't make it to the top,
Forced down to the bottom where they get sealed in with the blood of youth left wounded to dry out, shrivel up and perish.
And it's all scabbed over so nicely, the styptic sands of time glazing them into a beautiful, ancient oblivion.

The corners of the streets see the only activity,
Breathing mannequins, skin and bone ghosts and bloody shells represent the people who were here before.
Their voices solicit the story of young girls run away from home to join the A-List,
Fake their way to a new career and a fat paycheck,
Ultimately to get shoved back in the gutters by the capitalist shovels of the Hollywood Horde of superstar sluts and addicts..

Take a look at California's finest!
Fresh grown green leaf dropped out to the streets for a dollar and sold to the kids for their souls;
We're running an army out here, taking all those hard workers and whipping them out of shape,
Turn them into the lazy gluttons that the world wants us to be.
Come on out for the conscription, join us and fuck yourself.
Let the street life take your hand and lead you to our ersatz salvation,
A toke for freedom and the freedom to toke but when all's said and done
it's still just a lie.
Fast and free,
The dollars fly like sparrows, lives carried with them, grasped tightly in the talons of greed;
The birds take off through the smog,
Filling up with cancer and never looking back because the smoke has rendered us blind and blissful.

It's gotten to the point where only the children dare to brave the outside world at night,
Maybe because they don't know better, maybe because they don't care or maybe because the like it.
In the heart of each one lies the mind and cunning of a master arsonist,
Every one of them takes pride in watching the world burn,
But too drunk to realize that they too are on fire before they end up in ash.
the only safety the know is the acid rain of self-pity and sorrow that douses the flames but forsakes them to misery,
Each drop a small reminder that they're still human, or maybe something less.

Like I said before, guilt and shame walk hand in hand in this little piece of hell on earth,
But nobody minds because they're all that we've got left,
And when we lose that,
There will be blood.