Under the constant gaze of those who provide asylum
She could never even leave a shred of evidence
Of the werelass she becomes underneath the full sun’s gaze
The sleeves come apart, the trousers rip at the seams
As she howls at the sky, as if the scare away the night
She fully intends to take them up on there offers
As she dips her fingertips and palms in the paint
She doesn’t intend to leave without making her mark known

Leaving the states of the vicarious older boys
Like an skip nesting outside of a vacant council estate
They’re free to take anything inside, now she’s hit the road
Oh yes she’s dynamite
Shooting the sun’s glare the brightest smile

With the eyes of ego, pried open by the audience’s cheer
She spots the horizons the self tried so hard to hide
She see’s there’s so much to analyse and more to learn
See’s there’s a plethora of hosts to act as her avatar
She sits on the pavement with blue eyes
And draws profiles with hustled patio chalk
She lays on the soil with green shirt
And spots constelations contrasting with the void

They slink home after they escape the virgins gaze
Hoisting their collars sky high to mask the war wounds
Reeling from agony the second their backs hit the shower
Oh yes she’s dynamite
Shooting the dimples in the ceiling the brightest smile