Vanity (Hence the Slut)

I once knew a man who was so insecure
His soul would bleed like moon beams
His aching mind would sound like rusted horns
Echoing into the stillness begotten by shame
But wealth is worthless when you've no one to love
In your glass house,
where you've no stone to free yourself

And you're still just smoking the sun when you discover
That you're just a mouse in a cage,
Being fed scraps of lunatics in their unending infancy
You can comb through pebbles and boulders and the dreams of diamonds
Which infect living eyes with their mortal sorrow
The mercy of The End is as significant
As the morning of honest night

Remember when we watched our wounds fester and scathe as we wept
Tears of joy and grateful contempt?
And O that contempt that I welcomed with shattered arms
That you placed before me like an offering to our only-begotten deity,
Whom we so adored and who greeted us like paupers
At the door to our temple,
Seeking refuge from the rain