"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..."