Busybodies.

Busybodies, busybodies
everywhere you go.
Busybodies, busybodies,
all they want to know,
is who you are,
and where you hair,
the natural color of your hair.

They want to see you stripped,
of clothes, facades, and pride,
all of the secrets you wish to hide.
They want to see you naked and bare.

Busybodies, busybodies,
nothing else to do.
Busybodies, busybodies,
looking for you,
so they may chew.
Chew upon your flesh and rind,
Rip apart your delicate mind.

Until finally you say one day,
"Busybodies, go away."
They walk around a nearby corner,
and wait for you to turn around,
then stalk you like a watchful hound.

Busybodies, busybodies,
wait for you to fall,
then pounce and chew,
until nothing is left,
but a soulless corpse,
bereft of all.