Coming back from surgery,
Coming up on seventeen,
Some kind of heart-plasty or maybe a lobotomy.

Coming back from surgery,
Coming up on seventeen,
I don't remember how I looked before he got to me.

Coming up on twenty-three
Cut a piece of skin off me,
Never have to wait in line; they never seem to know it's me.

And he's standing over me,
Wide awake and clenching teeth,
"Now it's time," he says "for you to open up so I can see."

Caked... all...
Caked all over...

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