I hope that it's real, rather I yearn for it to be so
Every beat, every thought and so aches my soul
My reflection an apparition I long to depart
Here I lay dreaming, wishing for a new start
Can the cup that's broken ever be repaired
Should we trust a two legged chair
Dull knives, dim lights, or a dead battery
I'm useless, these words not meant for flattery
Ah, I feel it piercing painfully My cries are looked upon disdainfully You cut from me that which you want Strung up and tied a trophy to flaunt
Finding my home in the butchers' display Only pleased when you see my dismay You fill me with hope and hold me in reserve If not ignorant, is it what I truly deserve