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Left at London
O, Hollow Child
Oh hollow child
Somebody's made you empty
And all the while
I wished for you an entry

I will love you
If nobody else will seem to make your bed

Oh hollow child
I hate the way you process
A powdered wig
Behind a lack of progress

I will draw you
As somebody else who you would like to save

And remedy isn't a plenty
But melody isn't as deadly
Brother
And I know it isn't forgiving
But nobody loves when we're living
So fuck her

Oh hollow child
I want to be your witness
A martyrdom enveloped
As your sickness
I will hear you
Regardless of any trace of consciousness

Oh hollow child
I felt it incremental
But I have had
The privilege of the pencil

I will bind you
If only to make it so that you stay here

And remedy isn't a plenty
But melody isn't as deadly
Brother
And I know it isn't forgiving
But nobody loves when we're living
So fuck her

I will hold you
But only if you would ever want me to
I will heal you
If that is the only thing you've left to do