Now that the light turns away from you,
all the things you've turned into.
So they relied on the words
that they let you speak desperately.
Now they've carved you in,
you'll not be forgiven.
You've got the pen and paper, remorse,
You're the reporter doused in discourse.
Blind are the eyes that dot your truth.
Leaving it to eat at you.
So they forgivingly let you sleep,
while the sawblades cut so deep.
Now they've carved you in,
You'll not be forgiven.
You've got the lens and makeup, disgust.
You're the supporter. Scum of us all.
Scum of us all.
Sharks In London
Mours
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