There are hundreds of me
They crowded me out of my own identity
The only thing worse than these common whores is that they expect me to be attracted to them
Am I a victim of resource?

There are thousands of me
Each one another color in the wheel
and we're all . . . red
With hate?
With shame?
I am ashamed . . .

I mean, just look at the numbers
You can't prove anything in just one lifetime
Just run the numbers
Climbing . . . climbing!

There are millions of me!
And we renounce each one by name
Shall we begin at the beginning?
Hey, Chris!
Does it taste a little bitter?
Or is there something we're all bound to miss?
There's no such thing as subtraction
So maybe it looks like this:

There are 8 billion of me!!
And no one can recognize my face!
We've clenched each other's jaws
Taste no sweetness
Speak no grace
But we're so hungry
So we grind
Towards a grinding . . . grinding . . .
halt!