I am not a morning person.
I am not a man built for the sunrise,
unless said sunrise is rising sullenly over the ridge
on the culmination of a long summer's eve.
 
This is not something that
One
Should
Necessarily
Lament
When considering the fact that
Mostpoliticaladvancementisdoneintheweehours.
 
The hours of night beckon unceasingly.
Time well spent in the company of Erebos.
In a world where neon seems to burn with the brilliance of hydrogen,
A confundation of chemistry comparable to my every interaction.
 
Yet I find myself yearning for the age
That I fall asleep on the same day in which I woke.

I see these city lights and flashy cars
These beautiful women lost under stars
These daughters and sisters and mothers
These lost women
These come at a cost women
 
Given a glance then a dance
Given the means to live by the fiends of these beautiful women
Lost in a daze of green
A daze I've seen
 
Spotlights on these beautiful women
Eyes on these and cheers for these beautiful women
Lies in these and fears in these lost women
These come at a cost women
 
Show, bought and ready to go
At a price higher then they know
These women worth more then gold
Priceless
But still sold
Oh these lost women
 
Don't you know your beautiful
Not hot women
That your beautiful
Not meant to be bought women
Beauty needs to be taught in these women
Instead of this that is not
Left in them to rot
Oh these beautiful women
 
These I've seen
Women whos pupils are all green
Men whos eyes are gazed in between wide thighs
Silent cries eventually taking its toll
Night after night eventually breaking the soul
 
I see these city lights and flashy cars
These beautiful women lost under stars
These daughters and sisters and mothers
These lost women
These come at a cost women
 
Don't you know your beautiful
Not hot women
That you’re beautiful
Not meant to be bought women.