I'm just a broken down piece of meat for your pleasure.
I'm a rotting corpse screaming I surrender.
I'm the one who I don't want you to remember.
Do you really need the pictures?
Do you really need the number?
Do you really need to know me at all?
I am not your servant, I am not your enemy, I am just your scapegoat sanctuary.
Do you really need the pictures?
Do you really need the number?
Do you really need to know me at all?
Trembling in the corner as your footsteps grow closer, I become paranoid from the likes of you.
Like a blanket your shadow covers me and this room strips me of my dignity.
I want off of this ride, all I have left is my selfish pride.
Do you really need the pictures?
Do you really need the number?
Do you really need to know me at all?
Nothing left to bury but empty pockets.
No more skeletons to hide in secretive closets.
Did you really need the pictures?
Did you really need the number?
Did you really need to know me at all?
© Thomas Joseph Pellegrini
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