Colored rogue with empty hearts
You could not split a pair apart
They called it fun, I called it shame
That brought a timbre to their name
Lights would flash a bright alarm
The music thumping to disarm
And as the room turned smoky gray,
Coherence slowly dripped away.

And in the morning, rusted, weak
Black eyed with crumpled blotchy cheeks
They grind corroded gears and rise
Mechanically they wipe their eyes
Hide the toolkit, hide the parts
That once made up their metal hearts
All the nuts, the bolts, the nails
The brief excitement still prevails...
And still, the next night they return
Willing to let their conscience burn
They waged some whiskey for each breath
Inching closer to their death

The locksmith hands over a tiny key
You have arrived- what do you see?
They opened up themselves, surprised
At the lovely caverns filled with lies.