Damaged Goods

There's thrill in the danger
Of having "it" all
It's not like "it" made ya
But "it's" not your call
Have you ever felt "it"
"It" lives without a name
"It's" more like a feeling
If feeling felt the same

Now you'll start to worry
And worry's no good
For "it" shows no mercy
If misunderstood

A detrimental concept to inflict upon oneself
I'd offer my condolences if you'd put the words to rest

Now that's "it's" made you
Are you really whole?
Now that you've got something
Is thrill just fear disguised?
Although you deserve "it"
You'll try to no avail
To find out "its" purpose
Is forever veiled

An interesting concept to attribute reason for
Impenetrable fortresses always have hidden doors
A detrimental concept to inflict upon oneself
I'd offer words of wisdom if I had the words to tell

We are stuck inside a home unsettled
What good is it if you can't give it back?
I like, you like, we like nothing
But we pretend that we're happy
There is nothing left to give