Vacate is the word...
Vengeance has no place so near to her
Cannot find a comfort in this world
Artificial tears...vessel stabbed...next up, volunteers
Vulnerable, wisdom can't adhere...

A truant finds home...and a will to hold on...
There's a trapdoor in the sun...
It's immortality...

As privileged as a whore...
Victims in demand for public show
Swept out through the cracks beneath the door
Holier than thou, how?
Surrendered...executed anyhow
Scrawls resolved, cigar box on the floor...

A truant finds home...and a will to hold on, to...
There's a trapdoor in the sun...

Its immortality...
I cannot stop the thought...of running out the door...
Coming up a which way sign...
And all good truants must decide...
Oh, stripped and sold, mom...
And an auctioned forearm...
And whiskers in the sink...
A truants finds home...and a will to hold on to..
Some die just to live...
Ohh...