False Advertising

On a string I was held. The way that I move, can you tell?



My actions are orchestrated from above. So I swing and I sway.

Wave my hand. Kick my leg. And it is always right with the music.

"Until all that swinging starts to make you sick"

For a song I was bought. Now I lie when I talk with a careful eye on the cue card.

Onto a stage, I was pushed with my sorrow well rehearsed.

So give me all your pity and your money. Now.

"We used to think that sound was something pure"

If I could act like this was my real life and not some cage where I've been placed,

then, I could tell you the truth like I used to and not be afraid of sounding fake.

Now all that anyone is listening for are the mistakes.

In a house, by myself, I hear the ice start to melt and watch rooftops weep for the sunlight.

And I know what must change. Fuck my face. Fuck my name.

They are brief and false advertisements for a soul I don't have.

Something true I have lacked and spent my whole life trying to make up for.

But I found in a song and in the people I love. They will lift me up out of darkness.

Now my door stands open. I am inviting everyone in. We will drink.

We will laugh until the morning comes. That is what we are going to do.






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