I like the way the sun looks crying;
Love how the flowers cry when they're dying,
Can't help but be elated
When I watch as the poets are decapitated
I feel this joy taking over
Can't keep my pride undercover
When I see how good I kill
When I see the mastery of my skill

Like children walking cat-walks
I'm the only one who hears my cat talk
I'm sick of hoping for tomorrow
I've become accustomed to the sorrow
Dreams are made for fools up above
Who believe in the lie we know as love
Babies bounce of walls
Insane daisies dance down the halls

And poets die with open eyes
As porcelain dolls supress sighs.
 
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