Disorder 2: The Veil

Lower the veil
Paint over the tulle
With plagiarized lacquers
Of their affectations
Pray to abrade
Through rotoscoped days
With some lingering semblance
Nervios exaltados
It soon becomes clear
That this confounding minstrel

Must come to an end
Come to end
When can it end?
Please let this end
Just end

Pulling back the veil
Glance into the mirror
Hair, color and skin
Such a senseless portrayal
What can there be?
Everything else unseen

Please let this end
This sycophantic need
A performance on a razor's edge
While the real slips away
While the real slips away
We were left in a room
No time for rehearsal
Put on this skin and
Dance the dance until
One day the skin becomes your own
Becomes your own

Days go by
The tighter it grows
But not how you thought
Suddenly so hard to breathe
It's not how I thought it'd be

Won't somebody please
Get this thing off of me
In a moment of desperation
I tried to peel away the mask
Bits of papier-mâché and skin
Strands of yarn and tufts of hair
I tried to scrape away
Saw dust and gangrene
But the skin beneath
Had gone away
And everything unseen
Had already decayed
Beneath
And now I have nothing
Beneath
Beneath
Nothing except
A mask