Surgery
Coming back from surgery,
Coming up on seventeen,
Some kind of plasty or maybe a lobotomy.
Coming back from surgery,
Coming up on seventeen,
I don't remember how I looked
Before he got to me.
Coming up on twenty-three,
Cut a piece of skin for me,
Never have to wait in line; he
Never seems to know it's me
And he's standing over me,
Wide awake and clenching teeth,
"Now it's time," he says "for you
To open up so I can see."
Caked... all...
Caked all over...
Writer/s: MICHAEL PATTON
