i see a prize to be won.

and its her. shes there.

shes in the stall and i throw the ball and i miss. but the carnie gives her to me anyway. 

mercy. mercy was flower, flower was mercy. 

i see a pillow to rest on. 

and its her. shes there. 

shes on the bed and i rest my head and i sleep. and she forgives me for sleeping on top of her. 

forgiveness. forgiveness was flower, flower was forgiveness. 

i see a friend to talk to. 

and its her. shes there. 

shes heaven-sent, and i start to vent. and she listens to me and cares about my feelings. 

care. care was flower, flower was care. 

I see her head. 

And it's her. She's there. Oh God, she's there. 

Her head is lying in front of me, and I can't. Oh God, I can't. 

She's there and I can't.

I can't vent.

I have no shoulder to to cry on.

She's there and I can't.

I can't sleep.

I have no pillow to rest on.

She's there and I can't. 

I can't win. 

There's no merciful carnie here. 

What kind of

Cruel Place

Is This? 

Why is she

and now she's fixed

and now she's not

make up Its mind, This Cruel Place needs to make up Its mind

lost

I see no prize to be won.

And it's not Her. She's not there.

She's not in the stall and I throw the ball and I hit. But the carnie keeps Her away from me anyway. 

Loss. Loss was Flower, Flower is lost.