Proctology - text
So now I see every inch I gave to you is gone.
You, only to return the look on your face
telling me your sad story.
I don’t believe you—why I didn’t know why.
To deceive me was your goal, and you lied.
Bite the hand that feeds you no more;
chores and deeds you will not receive.
Call on me; I won’t be there for you no more.
Will I guide? You make excuses.
Left in a pool of pity. Poor little boy.
(I know you well.)
What a fool I was to take your word because
you leaned on me when you were strong.
(More than you know.)
I guess you never saw how hard I worked for you.
Thanking me was only last.
Proctology is the way that you clothe and feed yourself.
You’re not a doctor, so I refuse to pay.
Hand over fist out the door you go—out of my life.
Stay away; leave me alone; and I repeat
your empty promises which I refuse to deal.
Your mouth is moving, but no truth comes out your
Life like a hungry hunting leach: parasitic in act.
You try to teach me one way to fill my huge void
of self rely you don’t possess.
- Cry for Help
- Angel Beard
- Still Breathing
- Not Myself