The Vulture

Do you ever wish you'd never been born? That's me. My lips are parting like sweet sorrow I taste it I hear the whimpering, the silence then the sigh The little ugly voice is stifled underneath my body I feel it kicking in my stomach while it dies Ask me how dying feels so good Do you ever wish you'd never been born? Ask me Do you ever wish you'd never been born? That's me The resonance becomes a fist and numbs my face, my teeth, my backbone I'm learning that it gets easy to shut it out And soon the life comes leaking out, it throws in death and dies alone Tastes like copper losing taste smeared on my mouth So speak to me my little child You dying baby Stooped in ink, formaldehyde, the bubbles pop Why can't you grow? I want to know Am I so far gone? Just writhing in the dirt I'm lost and going on