Muse First Think Later
I am in the torture area
Where cloud nine floats into hell
It is when you are tortured as you grin
And even your torturer is pleased
By your grin
To see that you have such a sense of humor
If it hurt more it wouldn't hurt
At all
So says your torturer, the dog with the slice in his nose
You laugh, rolling your head
Raise your hand in toast
"What makes you smile now?" he asks
As if he didn't know
Everything is everything in the talk
"I smile," I say, "because I watched over her for fifteen years
Like a demon far away locked in a cage
Like my mother who would say she is always with me
And like you,
Who will always be here to torture me."
My torturer grins, no laugh
He cuts the air, hurt hard, with his whip
"You are less than me," he says
"Because you have such experiences.
My only wish is to be less than me
And for that I torture you"
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