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The Collector

I can collect but not keep

I just want to buy you

I'll say that I am busy, that I just don't have the time to

Just kidding, of course I do

But look at where the time flew

And now you seem to like me while I'm fearing of the prime truth

 

My merchant's rights have been revoked

My faculties are blinded

It's been a game of touch, recoil, It's all a game to find you

While all the baubles shine blue

The bait is in the bayou

And the deeper eye contact you grind the sooner those jaws bind you

 

Now meet your maker or make your mark…

 

So let me collect your soul, let me collect your heart

Help me round up your all your qualities, why don't you show me your art?

I'll show you how great you really are, all the best parts of your self

I'll make you think I'm a true star, but then you'll be kept on the shelf

 

How cruel a world where such kindness, coupled with gullible blindness

Used as effective a weapon…as heaven's Christ-like paradise is

The carrot on stick for the climb, can lull even the bravest and finest

And though many of us feel brightened, how much hope is there for the gas-lighted?

 

How long have you been up here?

My whole life. And you?

Not till I married my wife.

But who-

They never tell you the price.

 

And how does it feel to be porcelain?

Almost the same as my old skin.

I'm almost afraid of the wind.

I'm just as afraid of the win.

At what point does it become sin?

As soon as the numbness sinks in.

 

Have you ever thought we should climb down?

Off the shelf? To find help?

                                             For the crown.

But to be seen is to surely be found! To move up is to conquer the ground!

But I'm sick of treadmilling around.

 

To just follow orders I find in my head…

Up the shelves, all the time, till we're dead!

What makes you think that we can die?

I'd like to at least hope we can try.

But why do we keep marching on? It's not for this shitty ass song, it's not to keep singing along, we've been climbing these shelves for so long, would they even know if we were gone?

Would we even know?

Fuck it

 

Crash

 

Collected collectables bright on the shelves

Nothing to see save for everyone else

All those behaviors just crying for help

A twisted vanguard to imprison itself

 

All those nice pieces apart on the floor

Swept up with the darkness, the light, and the poor

Swept up with the difference the beauty and pain

Let's control the weather let's avoid the rain

Let's put them in packages and lead them ashore

Let's keep crying out give me more! give me more!

To promise them better, to lead them astray

To stop all this rhyming or the point won't get made

On Bright Street

The Collector - Part Three