Cheap strippers might bare it all for a few bucks,
but we’re artists here–
we’ll do it for the mere exposure.

When empty hands talk
up their “great exposure”
they knock our covers off
and bring us to their feet,
because we know they know we think
to be more seen must be a good thing.

So turn up the exposure:
show your soul and your skin and any dark place in between–
you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t desperate be seen.

Shed another layer, shed another light, shed another tear or more,
until you’re washed out in bright lights
from overexposure.


This Time with Feeling

It’s good, it really is–but it needs something more

Cause they’re not quite buying it.

We want to see you put your heart into it

So you can just reach in and rip, if you don’t mind.


It’s just little dry

Can we get a confession in there?

Some deep dark secrets spilling out of you?

With all the juicy details dripping down your ribcage?

Cracked open, bare, and rare, just how they like it?

So dip your finger in the throbbing cavity

Make your mark on the stage, sign your soul on the page in deep red.


We just want to see you put your soul into it

Because souls sell these days

And if you won’t offer yours, I’m sure we’ll find another.