Our masks.

We are your doctors (your slaves) your priests (or your maids).
Don’t worry about all that now, take these pills and swallow my bullshit. Chase it with a shot of misery. See how your problems disappear so quickly?
Quietly…no mess.

Oh sweetheart, can't you see the world without its pretty, pretty mask? See the sickness? See the hate? Life in its purest form. All you'd have to do is wipe the mud from your lovely, bleeding blue eyes.

But no. No, I didn’t think you would be able to.

I guess by now you’d want to shut me up. (numb, numb, numb, and number still) But you won’t have to. This prescription already took care of that for you. It’s so easy, almost too fucking easy you would’ve said.
Too late, too late.

Pretty songs, bubble gum, heart attacks, play it dumb.
My idols are dead, all from an OD. But no one’s mourning.
ashes to ashes. dust to dust.

Did you hear the news today? The professor shot his wife and the hooker won the lotto. Yeah, we’re all the same. Slit our stomachs wide and you’ll find the same sightless squirming worms underneath this shining smile (did you catch the rotting teeth?)
No one wants to look into those glassy eyes of yours. Let’s play pretend, they say. I’d be glad to, they slur back.

What a fucking legacy you have there. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Cigarettes and bullet holes. And a head in the gutter. A rat. You’re another rat soaking in its sewer spa.
The exterminator’s on his away.

Your eyes are deaf, your ears sightless, and you’re tongue's so very mindless.
Mindless tongues, mindless souls.
I do believe your mask is slipping.