Dummyhead.

Different smile for different scenery....
Whispered words that hide no meaning.
Bitten wrists.
Chrome in the walls...
Scratched-up face and swelled, blue balls.

Let's play a game of selfish despair.
Ripping and tear-tearing at the scalps of our hair.
This house's a stage. A mockery of dread...

For the insane...
The "crazies..."

But just dummyheads.

We're mental enough.
You'll find us bobbing by the noose...I mean strings.
So come and stay. Stay a while.
We have candy. We have darkness. Even tye-dye jeans!

There's meat on the table. Meat on the floor.
Make yourself at home! Eat, eat...
Sift through the eyeballs of John Delano,
And taste the veins as a midnight treat.

Oh! - the stench? Don't ever worry about that....
The rotting flesh makes it tangy...
No seasoning needed.
You get used to it all after a while...
Then you'll become one of us....
Enjoying.

Feeding.

Oh! Look at the shadows....it's getting late.
There's a play to be shot,
And you're the new star!!!

Just let us use you, all of you if you mind...
We'll grant you the role you've been trying to find.

So let's play the game of suffering and despair...
Where you play the dummy, who is pluck-plucked by his hair.
This house is our stage....
A gateway of dread.

And you are the foolish....
The young....

The dummyhead.