Sleepwalkers

Your poetry describing me It doesn't come close You work the handle You smear and turn But you come no closer to meaning It's your vanity That's obvious It embarrasses Those that adore you But who's gonna talk Oh how it'll hurt You were always unstable But you've gotten worse You looked into mirrors Where death was at work Of that you were certain But it was all surface And surface is numb Something to wake us From cultural slumbers You fucking sleepwalkers Go on and sleep Go on and sleep This is tomorrow