Snake handler, faith healer   lawyer, doctor, sword swallower   child psychologist, amateur pornographer      Sales associate   Six percent commission   Do you have our club membership?   Can I tell you about the benefits?      Photo developing, we see every picture   And rob extras of those of the sexual nature   There's a shoebox in the back which is storing the duplications   Right adjacent to a pile of blank applications   And if our patrons weren't so ordinary, I might take up blackmail   I'd seize upon the evil if I thought it would be the key to feeling once again   But what I can gather from these bins is that   People's lives don't provide many pictures worth stealing   Just like mine, although plenty get abandoned   I've stopped seeking sex to find different kinds of passion   Because sometimes amongst the thumbs and out of focus baby shots   A candid picture of anger or happiness shows up      I know I've been swallowed   I can feel the acid eating at my skin   I don't want to live in the stomach   But I don't want to be shit   Out into the streets with parts of me partially digested   Left here in the beast      I know I've been swallowed   I can feel the acid eating at my eyes, at my hands, at my friends, at my mind   And if I don't die   I'm developing quite an appetite   I guess I'll have to eat my way back outside      I've got it down to where it takes me about an hour   To bag the trash and get it out from underneath the counter   Lug it up to the dumpster, back behind the shopping center   Lost in thought, God it's hot, a ghost inside the register   Zombie walking parking lots   waiting for my moms to pick me up   holding down the vomit in my throat   I hope no one I know ever sees me in this state   Weeks deep in the belly of the beast named retail      I want to yell "help me!"   The scream of something's very wrong   But everyone will tell me that my battle cry is too banal   And way dated   No, I can't explain it   But I didn't say that they could take   What they're exchanging for my paycheck      I will not be addicted   To cigarettes and scratch-off lotto tickets      I'm not satisfied to lie about my clock-out times   When I close the store   I need something more from this life   In the pictures I horde, I find one in every five hundred   That makes me feel a little less disgusting   The answer must be here, I just haven't found it yet   That's why I keep stealing, so I can not forget   That I was once whole, I was once real   It's just a job, so it's not a big deal, right?      So why am I so acutely aware that I'm being digested?   Why am I scared at night that I might not survive in this climate?   My body's a box, and I'm sealed inside it   Why have we decided that we're stuck behind the stomach lining?   I'll find a way out, or die trying   I'll find a way out, or die trying   I'll find a way out, or die trying   I'll find a way out, I'll find a way, I'll find a way out or die trying