Some People Without Brains do An Awful Lot Of Talking

Tie me up and hang me high like a scarecrow. You?d think I?d warn others to stay away from the broken tattered condition that I?ve been left in.

Circling over me.

Circles. Always surrounded. Circling over me.

The world seems smaller when you?ve been handed a purpose. Will I only know this desolate wasteland for the rest of my days?

If my feet ever touch the ground. Will I even know how the walk on my own?

The world is a stranger to me. All I?ve seen is all I?ve ever known. The only thing keeping me restrained is myself. Do I play with fire when I catch it so easily? Tie me up or cut me down. Am I ready to walk on my own?