The Crowd

Let the silent be heard The world is not a stage Watching and never watched Angry we forgot to wave Pretension and aches Demonstrations of hate Why am I on your plate? Nothing else to consume Always leaving a bit more room To taste Stomach aching Stretching and fading Contractions no birth Oh It hurts, oh it hurts You’ll have to clean and release me Though you’d love to keep me I’ll never behave For me it gets better I’ll prove God clever Just wait ‘til dessert