I feel as though a prisoner, bound for whip and stocks. But, a bell did bid to come for tea once they had set my locks. So, here I hang all spread and drawn waiting for the sting. Instead they've left me here to rot in want of feeling.

When I'm tired of keeping balance on this pedestal. When I'm ready to snap this halo placed by those who know my shell. You bid me in with knowing grin for you too bear this crown. You strip away all facades when I am feeling down. Your hands are rough, your words are coarse, fingers mark my skin. This is just the treatment to make the outside match the in.

As thou lovest So then leavest Me to die upon this shore To bleed out ev'ry vessel Till cries escape no more From my lips Which burn with hunger For thine kiss With hope to cling The taste of thee Will ever linger As a mem'ry beckoning