I see you not see me—these things don't sell—
that look of consternation on your face.
Your body judged, as mine is judged as well.

You'd think we'd stand as one, but I can tell
that no, we are alone. You leave in haste.
I see you not see me—these things don't sell.

A simple difference, nothing much, oh well.
Yet somehow simple difference made the case.
Your body judged, as mine is judged as well.

There're similarities between your hell
and me, limping, alone, them giving chase.
I see you not see me—these things don't sell.

What's left but giving in, I let them yell
about my habbits—words with little base—
your body judged, as mine is judged as well.

What I choose not to show—my comfort space,
need not infringe upon your low-cut lace.
I see you not see me—these things don't sell—
your body judged, as mine is judged as well.