Fistful of Hollow

Come inside, I can show you another room
Step aside, I've the keys to an empty tomb
It's private and quiet
A darkened respite for me and you

Give it up for the craft you've cut yourself for
Scare up the ghosts and confess, don your scars and scorn
Mind over matter
Dizzy and battered no more

The cream of the crop is corrupt
It's low brow at the top end
The cream at the top's hyped-up
And over exaggerated
Obvious and jaded to no end

Channel it all into a manuscript
Or divert it all into a clenched fist
Mind over manners, a visceral splatter
Let's all burn all the banners
Whistle and hum all the hymns as we go