Poem based on MCR's song, updated as of 6/3/12.
You ask me sweetie,
What tricks are there to my trade?
There’s only one; don’t make a mistake…
For a living, I destroy the ugly, to create the beauty.
Potions, poisons, it’s a game I like to call the “dead-treaty”
I stay out of the lights, of the panda cars screaming,
I tell myself daily
“You’ll wake up to find that you’re only dreaming.”
The man just tells me to kill the photographs I see,
And every night baby, I ask myself
“Who do you want to be?”
I spend a lot of my days trying to burn the stench from my clothing,
A game of guess who,
You find out who has died in the morning….
I tell myself every single day;
But we both know, honey, I’m just not built to quit that way.
Fountains of water,
A spray in my face,
How did I end up to be this much of a disgrace?
It ain’t the money, and it sure as Hell ain’t just for the fame…
I’ll tell you something;
I’m not the only one to blame…..
If the bank cards and the wallets all stopped working,
I don’t think I’d be left with guilt or a pain from hurting,
I show no remorse for victims with my pen,
After all, we only go so far to bury them
Why do you look so shocked, reflection?
There is a reason why
I never told you what I do for a living.