He's itching for a tongue in the mouth
Don't stop 'til the teeth have all come out
and his gums are raw
from blowing sugar over straw
And so it goes for sticks and bricks
melting candles with burnt-out wicks
forgotten toys and a lack of poise
from a clown that couldn't bring you joy

I couldn't bring you joy
(My core is cold)
(My body's on fire)

He's speaking with a hitch in his breath
You're listening with a right to be distressed
As the bomb goes off
Your poor open heart will drop
"I'm a wilted rose
You're the pruning shears
I am blind and deaf
You're my eyes and ears
if my name is called on that Final Day
I hope ill look around...
And I won't see your face"

A grease spot,
cement rocks,
Where you lost your hold
In a dark pit,
let the weight sit
Think of all that he stole

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