The best sound in the world was your keys in the door,
until you weren't using them anymore.
The heart felt wrung out
and hung out to dry.
The constant tugging of the sinking of the chest,
the mind and soul tied up in their own protest,
over this changing
and rearranging of life.
And that's part of it, too,
keepin' it cool,
playin' the fool,
sometimes being ignorant
helps keep a better temperament.
But eating from the tree
there is no knowledge that comes free,
free of the consequence of action for your own satisfaction.
Juice runs down the sides of your mouth,
down your neck and chest, dripping further south,
you sip and suck at the flesh, the nectar tastes so sweet.
Your voice no longer blends with the crowd, once just a plaintive bleat.
It starts to burn, the cost still not too steep
to learn what was once in darkness, now brought to light,
gorged on the fruit of the truth, this is your new plight.
Eye opened to the whole world like you studied for the quiz,
there's no going back now and that's just what the fuck it is.
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