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She spends her whole day in a theater
Livin her time in the life that she would prefer
she stirs nothing, comes & goes she wishes
Surroundings oblivious to her whole existence
But if they only knew
About the thoughts that she can't seem to stop from comin through
Comin' across
At a loss for dialouge
Walkin through the fog
With her eyes closed & her mind gone
And now she lives in the films that she sees
And daydreams that she kills us repeatedly
I'm impressed with the tolerance she brandishes
If it was me, I would snapped from
the sheer overanxiousness of waitin for
the day she strolls through Muddy Waters
And slaughters sons & daughters and bloodies mothers and fathers
Lovely little *case*study castaway cutie masturbating in back of that matinee movie
And someday, oneday, when the credits roll
She'll hold a pocket full of gunplay for the ignorant souls
Then we'll know what depth awake touches sleep
Make me walk the thin line between shallow and deep