Vacate is the word...vengeance has no place so near to her

Vacate is the word...vengeance has no place so near to her 
Cannot find a comfort in this world 
Artificial tears... the vessel stabbed...next up, volunteers 
Vulnerable, wisdom can't adhere... 

truant finds home...and a will to hold on... 
There's a trapdoor in the sun...immortality... 

As privileged as a [bad word] ..victims in demand for public show 
Swept out through the cracks beneath the door 
Holier than thou, how? 
Surrendered...executed anyhow 
Scrawl dissolved, cigar box on the floor... 

truant finds home...and a will to hold on to... 
Theres a trapdoor in the sun... 

Immortality... 
I cannot stop the thought...of running out the door... 
Coming up, a which way sign, all good truants must decide 
Oh, stripped and sold, mom... and an auctioned forearm... 
And whiskers in the sink... 
As Truant finds home...and a will to hold on, to, 
Some die just to live... 
Ohh...