...

That's a pretty sack of meat
You wear over your soul -
It's hair is really neat,
And it has perfect feet.

And god, you lot make me feel old -
And like a record on repeat
And just why did we have to meet

When I look like s**t,
These f*****g shoes don't fit,
These are yesterday's clothes
With discoloured bits;
I can't see you like this!
A dropped egg of a woman
Who's shell always splits.

A rejuvenated ancient
And she is trying to be patient
Behind my face,
Behind my lacerations.
I can make no alterations -
The map is carved in stone..
Because one way or another
I am making my own home.