Target

It’s not hard to visualize
That person being completely vaporized
With daily bread comes daily sacrifice
And you’re waiting for the lightning
From the silent violent sky
And your feet are wet
You can’t forget:
You’re a target, you’re a target
You’re a target
It’s not difficult to picture
Seven long and unlucky years
The seaman’s bones sure hide
Some shaking nerves
And leave you swinging at the mirror
With a pair of silver scissors
Swinging at the mirror with a pair of silver scissors
Because it hurts to belong to a face so long
And ugly, and ugly
And ugly
You can’t remember why you ever put
Flowers between the pages of your favorite books
But you don’t read any more, so you know
They’re gone for good
And you might never really learn
The law of diminishing returns
You’re smart enough to spit out something
When it burns, when it burns
When it burns