individually wrapped
placed in neat little rows
becoming a piece
of everything that grows
some numbers, a name, to indicate you played the game
came empty handed and left the same

a soul is a soul
and a shell is a shell
the border in between is full of everything you felt
some cling to a cross because they're tired and lost
they leave it up to the weather to measure the cost

and everytime I look within I recognize the darkness
familiar to the image of the artist
staring at the bathroom mirror in a strangers apartment
can't remember her name, don't remember how I got here

but here I am, thinking about death again
humbles out the stress, helps the breath get in
i need to check my friends as well as my next of kin
to let them all know
i love them all to the end

and when the soul begins to reap, I think she'll know me from
the sleep
i keep caught in the corner of my bloodshot eyes
and if she has the nerve, to let me dump a couple last words
i'm gonna turn to the earth and scream "Love your life!"

Love your life, quite cliche but I guess thats me
a ball of pop culture with some arms and feet
as discrete as I've tried to keep the drama and cancer
it's no secret that I hunger for someone to feed the answers

i never expected a bowl of cherries
i'm just a virgo trying to find my own version of the virgin
mary
and when I let them carry me to a cemetary
i wanna be buried with a pocket full of clarity