Surgery

Coming back from surgery, Coming up on seventeen, Some kind of plasty or maybe a lobotomy. Coming back from surgery, Coming up on seventeen, I don't remember how I looked before he got to me. Coming up on twenty-three, Cut a piece of skin for me, Never have to wait in line; he never seems to know it's me And he's standing over me, Wide awake and clenching teeth, "Now it's time," he says "for you to open up so I can see." Caked... all... Caked all over...