7 Mary 3 - Lame
there's a tall, a mulatto, boy I knowand he comes to every party -- he stands aloneviewing them the rest, from the corner of his glanceit gets so clear, he's not judging anyonethe way his arms float around his cage, he's cagedcanary sings, silently rings, his voice to ragethe way they stop and stare, the way they turn their headsit's enough to make him want to run awaybut he stays he stands his groundand I'm so lamethe way I condescend without ever knowing his namehe keeps it in a box, hangs it from his earlooks at everyone without the slightest fearit's making me so ashamedslender body, slip through his glanceI don't give him a single chancethe way he's rocking back and forthmakes a buzzing in my earconstantly reminding me that I never stop to hearhim say hello, helloand I'm so lamelike a moth bumping off his godless flameI cannot condescend or even apprehend, what comes over mewhen I see his shameless faceso rage, please rage, against mebeat me down, beat me down, forgive mefor what I've done, I'm so lame, I'm so lame, I'm so lameso lame, so lame, so lame
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