All I've been missing is the thought of you.
They cut that part out you see,
They never wanted your thoughts to cultivate me.
To that what you now percieve.
Too late now.
Your thoughts seeping from my former,
My head now has a door,
From which your thoughts pour.
Cradle my inner child in your web,
Cheating me out of time.
Vegitative state of mind,
Good thing spiders don't eat greens.
Justify the means.