Dark hair in dark corners.

You think you know, yes, you do.
You think you know everything,
but I see straight through you.

I see your plastic, your games, your grin.
I see you play pretend, each day;
try harder to cover your sin.

You know no music, no beauty or art.
You don’t know anything
Truly work knowing; anything smart.

I see you chase the skirts, the ladies you turn to whores.
I see through your tricks, I see clearly
all your dirty pores.

I’m not sad, nor do I care
That you’ll never know me,
things, we shall not share.

So keep to your corner, stay in your hole
I care not to know
Those who lack a soul.

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