Up on the ladder the insides are removed
We slide like slime through the flock paper walls
But as you're not really listening you won't notice at
All
We are empty and confused it barely keeps us amused
These are bad clothes for rich folks who have joined
The master race
All we want is to be like you
We beg
For the scraps
From your
Table
There is really no need to fear
Were the orchestra at the ball
Trussed up in tuxedoes
For slaveships

Unforgiving
Pencil sharp
Well at least
You look the part