Oh god, I'm an outlet
You're no poet but you still write
Oh god, you can stand again
But you're sure as shit that you're not shitting anyone
So you lay down again
Lay down again
Move their weight in gold to a higher plane
And perched, the eyes guarding the words
Through teeth and tongue they travel
They use air but they don't fly
How does it feel to make it bleed
You are the outlet
I am the poet