Vacate is the word…vengeance has no place on me or her
Cannot find the comfort in this world
Artificial tear…vessel stabbed…next up, volunteers
Vulnerable, wisdom can’t adhere…
A truant finds home…and a wish to hold on…
But there’s a trapdoor in the sun…

Immortality…

As privileged as a whore…victims in demand for public show
Swept out through the cracks beneath the door
Holier than thou, how?
Surrendered…executed anyhow
Scrawl dissolved, cigar box on the floor…
A truant finds home…and a wish to hold on too…
He saw the trapdoor in the sun…

I cannot stop the thought…I’m running in the dark…
Coming up a which way sign…all good truants must decide…
Oh, stripped and sold, mom…auctioned forearm…
And whiskers in the sink…
Truants move on…cannot stay long
Some die just to live…
Ohh…