Blurs On A Wall

I'm always surrounded.
By the lost, the floundered.
And faggot haters.
And class traitors.
Long lost causes,
Bright Rising stars.
Kids with jobs.
And fast red cars.
But with me,
If you can yet see,
The more you look.
The less there is.
The less there is.
I've known those happy.
And those damn dirt sad.
The kindest hearts.
And the very, very bad.
The whole world loves you,
If you do what we say.
Don't do that,
Don't do this,
Don't fight him,
Her, don't kiss.
So many things,
To do, or not.
Without, you're cold,
And under it's hot.
But with me,
If you still can't see.
The more you look.
The less there is.
The less there is.
Cruelty is cruel.
Wetness is wet.
Is everything fluid?
Are the pieces set?
Does Satan hate you?
Is there anything left to?
Farmers toil,
Soldiers fight,
Doctors heal,
And priests are right.
There's no room.
Click click, boom boom.
Click click, boom boom.
Do you hate us,
Mr Red?
Do you loathe us?
And want us dead?
Well, even with me.
For all to see.
The more you look.
The less there is.
The less there is.
Just blurs on a wall.
Not a mystery.
Not even at all.