...Beautiful Girl in the World,

you drink yourself into a numbness,

your whole body a dead limb sawed off

from all their buzzing hearts.

Sinking in that low-down, red leather armchair,

you have never felt so small —

but isn't it sweet to not feel out place for once?

To soak in the soft growl of the music,

wishing you had his voice; there is nothing

like the confidence of a white man with a guitar.

You're deathly in love with a girl

who right now is on a date in your city,

but if you close your eyes tight enough, here she is,

so you try and try and try.

Your dad sits beside you, safe in his masculinity,

and you wonder how he does it —

but man, you look so frail tonight,

like your bones would snap in her embrace

and tear through flesh, cruel and jagged,

like they're trying to escape your body.

You are trying to escape your body.

So you drink yourself into this numbness,

that dead mind sawed off from your own bleeding heart —

still beating, though you wish it wouldn't.

Afraid she will see it through your ribcage.

You opened up your arms for the sky to see

how you slit open your veins when you were thirteen.

now, you are too weak to hold her —

to hold anyone.

So, what kind of man are you?