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The Chosen

Last night a moth came to my bed

and filled my tired weary head

with horrid tales of you.

I can't believe it's true.

But then the lamp shade smiled at me.

It said, "Believe" it said, "Believe."

I want you to know it's nothing personal.

First time I had sex, I was three.

First time consenting was thirteen.

Though you weren't there, you remind

me of those hands.

Roses are red, violets are blue

If I'm schizophrenic, then I am too!

Whatever it takes to escape.

I hope you understand

why I'm forced to take your life in my hands.

I want you to know it's nothing personal.

And though we've never met

I've seen your image in a million waking dreams.

Your eyes they call to me, "Set me free."

Did I ever tell you, you look like my mother?

She once left me in a supermarket.

I promised myself that I'd never feel that way again.

Did I ever tell you that you look like my dear old mother?

I hope you understand

why I'm forced to take my life in your name.

I want you to know, it's nothing all the same.

And though we've never met

I've seen you image in a million waking dreams.

Your eyes call to me, "Set me free."

It's not easy being the chosen.

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