And if I could swim, I'd swim out to you in the ocean,
Swim out to where you were floating in the dark.
And if I was blessed, I'd walk on the water you're breathing,
To lend you some air for that heaving, sunken chest.

'Cause they chose you as the model for their empty little dreams,
With your new head and your legs spread like a filthy magazine.
And they hunt you, and they gut you, and you give in.

And if I was brave, I'd climb up to you on the mountain,
They led you to drink from their fountain spouting lies.
And I'd slay the horrible beast they commissioned
To steer me away from my mission to your eyes.
And I'd stand there, like a soldier, with my foot upon his chest,
With my grin spread, and my arms out, in my bloodstained Sunday's best,
And you'd hold me; I'd remind you who you are under their shell.
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