This is a journal
Written for you who carry rooms
And those who talk too much
But hear a voice that tells them such:
"I'm only sharp enough to open wounds
and make them swoon, so I'll talk on and on
and pray to you that you'll listen."

This is a novel
Written in blue
Read as the news
Death of a future world is coming soon
to a theater near you
All those who carry rooms are dying too
alone and mute
And if you want their loss
They're lovers too
And you need them...