Object of Affection

Oh, disobedience, your progeny woke up again

All full of insolence, unfit to glance the sovereign

He whiles the time away with petty acts of mutiny

A heart of heresy, a surest sign of lunacy

Purest in its ecstasy, temptation of atrocity

Denied a sense of agency to further aims of royalty

Forbidden phrases spoke in clandestine hypocrisy

They killed the prince-to-be, they-

They turned their son into a doll

Perfect little packages, disposed of when it's finished

Bearings free from cartilage, no beating heart within it

A guided metamorphosis, but she won't get the memo

You're the object of affection, hold me tight

In this spellbound insurrection, we fly by night

If the sunlight stays behind us, out of sight

Be my object of affection, by candlelight

They don't even know what they wanna hear

They only know the torch and the warmth of fear

Spirited from helplessness, devoid of intuition

She pulled its cork on consciousness, welcome to the fiction

Simulacra sensitive and thoughts left out of order

Subservience's consequence, with time it will get better

Mage of black, a heretic, who saved her from her reverie

More freedom than she's ever known, a self-imposed identity

The weight of ego crashing down, a spiral towards inf-

Her cheek is cradled by a hand of pure machinery

Ball-jointed empathy, she-

She turned herself into a doll

Perfect little packages, so easily outfitted

Form and function fluctuate, no longer uncommitted

So malleable, the push and pull for what this feeling's felt for

You're the object of affection, hold me tight

In this spellbound insurrection, we fly by night

If the sunlight stays behind us, out of sight

Be my object of affection, by candlelight

(I swear on my life, I'll make it worth the while)

(Never anything less than free)

They don't even know

(What function fails to show)

Betwixt the status quo

(The only thing they know)

But we've been born anew

(So perfectly askew)

Perfect little packages

Wrapped up in contradiction

Metal moves organically

A sick and twisted fiction

But maybe what you're missing is that twisted point of view

The outline of your autumn cast in cadmium-colored hues

No holding up to scrutiny, impossibly obtuse

So come and join the artifice, we've left a spot for you

I swear it on my honor, this doll will make it true

You're the object of affection, hold me tight

In this spellbound insurrection, we fly by night

If the sunlight stays behind us, out of sight

Be my object of affection, by candlelight