Our guise is that of an apparition enthralled in the vanity of
self-worship our robe our crown as
much a part of us as the very marrow in our bones we’ll have you
begging for you mother in the morning
your father is out he’s been damn right he should be worried they’ll call
you jane doe, they’ll call you jane doe
one in a million one and the same one empty chamber one less to
blame this is a failing institution and
I’ve failed to notice. I’ve learned not to despise this sentiment
complacency inokes atrophies embrace
I’ve learned to forget my desires and so what if I can’t leave this
room that never stopped us before
