Drifting.

It's all a popularity contest,

Honest.



We wipe the dreams out of our eyes

While rouged cheeks and lips betray our lies;

And underneath our perfect skin

Is hate, and shit, and sick, and sin.



Oh, how I want your face.

To share in your disgrace

And to fall into your perfect charms

Would be perfect tainted bliss.

I've never been good at this.

I'd give you all my pocket change

For one believable kiss.



For a moment in time

I'd steal the world

And hurl it at the stars.

This second fails to capture

And my attention wavers;

Your sexual favours

Do nothing for me any more.

You are my whore.

You just want more.

And I need it too.



Inspiring and creative,

I watch your gaze across the room

And linger quietly, quite alone,

Within your thoughts

For just that time.

Give me your place in a crowd,

Give me the words in your mouth,

Set me loose upon the earth

And give me peace for just that minute.

Just that moment.



And the ribbons are distributed

To the ill-reputed.

First... And the rest.

There is nothing, if you are not the best.

And to my broken galaxy, you are a sun -

I am but a nothing, with none.



There is nothing.

It's all so wrong.

The passion's going, going... Gone.

You sap my zest

And then the rest,

You lay your head upon my breast.

Your whispers speak of guilt-free deeds,

Somewhere in the dark I feel your need.



We were here long before the end,

And will thrive again, my friend;

A rare breed, we, and far-between,

And in this popularity contest

We are merely contestants.

Merely participants.

Losers.