What's a worm supposed to do when everything's in scraps
Torn out hearts and busted parts and nothing left to do
Everything I touch just turns to wreckage on this shore
Perhaps this whore should find someone with even less a clue

What's in a name? Well this one's looking thinner by the day
But it's not given out like lies and ounces of myself
So I can go on knowing they can't find me once away,
So now I'm just a lonely nameless, faceless one night hell

What's with the weather lately, always two degrees below,
Whatever wraps this carcass tripping crossed these empty streets
Skin and bones and silver pieces to those in the know
The light don't see me as I slip from shadow into sheets

Rain has turned to iron ripping down this rigid face
Leaning to the wind as even more wet licks my spine
Winding down the staircase in this blue-black rusted place
So indigo the filter of the light against my mind

It's four am again I'm in the claustrophobic state
Consumed by walls swallowing hate and dying for a cause
It's never ending nothing that's injected to my soul,
But I won't trade this icy hole, I know the morning draws

I need the lusting back and coursing through me
Hunger seems so foreign now, foreign to be
Thrust beneath this light of "satisfaction's left me dry"
So now this wind burnt skull just wants to want to want to want to try

Hunger