| I walked in to find both my mother and father engaged
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| Just gleaming in frozen and sweat-soaked post-coital embrace
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| And on the T.V., a man with a prosthetic face
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| Oh, how I did cry; |
| I feared that my features may too one day cave
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| This fusing of plastic to to flesh I could not understand
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| The fusing of mother to father now stuck in my head…
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| These images stuck in my head now
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| Like a record that skips through my sex life;
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| Offensive, pretentious, an all around drag
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| I’m not a sex-driven entity but you can warm your feelers inside me
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| Who are you, and why don’t you knock before you come in?
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| What are you, the dark toothy grin at the edge of my bed?
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| Yes, I sleep with the lights on fully clothed with a knife by my side
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| I toss and I turn for there’s creepers that lurk and they’re waiting outside
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| I just accept them, for this is the life I was handed
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| But I’m not the one that you want
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| I’m simple and rotted within
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| I should have never opened my eyes…
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| I’m not a sex-driven entity but you can warm your feelers inside me |