An Object

An object that is
So much like another
Mere coincidences
The kind of thing you could never tell your mother
Virginity
A dilemma of anatomy
Social epidemic
Nothing but a lack of human emotion

Human emotion

They sit there watching like vultures on a perch
For what you have to tell them
A hairline between innocence and stupidity
But they feel comfortable
Their days highlighted by a TV screen
Their evenings by a syringe
Now they are crying out for help
But they will not help...themselves

Your parents fed you
With a silver spoon
Now you insert the cotton, water and junk
To cop the newest attitude
You use an old rig that's so dull
You almost have to hammer it in
The only thing that's as dull
Is the state of mind you're in
Don't you need it bad now...

Moving like diseases across the glass
Thoughts of dismay appall me
Pick the bits of glass from the open wounds
So far out ahead, yet sultry
And they cry out for help
But they won't help themselves
'Cause the only sound that they hear
Is a ringing in their ears
The sound of silence
The silence
The Silence
The silence
Silence