Lack Of Days


So what's the deal
with your piercing eyes
such a fucking cheap disguise
so pale so thin
your remarks soak in
As i wash my eyes
and my hands of joy
never expect me to be able
to handle your coy ways
I told you not to play my game
now we do things my way
I wonder if you know
that my tough shell is so weak
such a charade
to force me to speak
No words can be said
to account for my troubled mind
plastic or no there's no sense of time
Just a lacadazical whirl
just a fucked up lonely girl