This house held up on walls, 
Proud on the outside, barren within.
Our shame strewn in pearlescent coats, rolled on these halls,
clamped-quiet dinners, spilling and spelling
the litres squeezed from our sin

What is it to be an eraser in a planet of taboo? 
Surgeons are a dime a dirty dozen, 
labcoats selling truth out of desperation, 
junkie peddlers, collecting the walking human remains...

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