In the dollhouse of wilted roses
Collecting filth from all the mold
Ivy and weeds grew across the brick
A man lies down, he's growing old
T.v. Remote, changing station after station
I watch him with my glass eyes
Volume increases louder by the minute
And why am I not surprised
Never born to be a barbie
I was made from clay and paper like string
I can never be as plastic as her
I thought nothing could ever replace me
He used to play with me
I was his favorite doll
But he put me on a shelf and never looked at me at all
So I collected dust all that was left was the snuff
Of a dying old man who couldn't love his favorite doll
I wish that you would play with me
(In the valley of all the dolls
I knew I wouldn't get that far
You never noticed the rims on the ends of my dress
Or played with me at all)