And if I could swim, I'd swim out to you in the ocean,
Swim out to where you were floating in the dark.
And if I was blessed, I'd walk on the water you're breathing,
To lend you some air for that heaving sunken chest.
'Cause they chose you as the model for their empty little dreams,
With your new head and your legs spread like a filthy magazine.
And they hunt you, and they gut you, and you give in…
When I was a little boy, maybe the age of nine, I got into a fight arranged by two kids at my school. At first I didn't think much of the kid. All I knew was that he had insulted my dearest pet, Stripes, and anyone who dared to make fun of my baby had to get their ass beaten. So thus I went with the fight, pursued being taught how to be a sumo wrestler, and ended up getting my ass landed in the hospital. That kid turned out to be pretty strong.
And now, you see, at the hospital, after we got into another rumble, I Discovered that this kid really wasn't all that bad. That he was just as much a victim in this stupid situation as I was. This kids name was Tweek, and he turned out to be a very important person in my life.
But, Tweek, was a little different. When we entered highschool, people always thought it was funny to pull pranks on him because he always took it way too seriously, he'd end up having a panic attack over something as simple as his pencil missing. The pranks have been going on since we were in elementary school and I was always the one to defend him.
And I always will be the one to defend him.
As we grew older and we got out of high school, Tweek changed even more. While he was still as much of a spazz as he was before, he grew to have a beautiful, and I'll repeat, beautiful, body. Nice curves, cute face and everything. Girls would be jealous of how great he looked. But being that Tweek was gullible, and very niave, he'd always been taken advantage of,
And if I was brave, I'd climb up to you on the mountain,
They led you to drink from their fountain, spouting lies.
And I'd slay the horrible beast they commissioned
To steer me away from my mission to your eyes.
And I'd stand there, like a soldier, with my foot upon his chest,
With my grin spread, and my arms out, in my bloodstained Sunday's best,
And you'd hold me, and remind you who you are.. under their shell...
He was thrown into the world of sex and drugs. His boyfriend were rough and mean and not nice people, I couldn't sit there and watch them take advantage of him. I loved him, he was Tweek. My Tweek. The boy I grew up with, the kid I love.
"Please, Clyde, Stop," I remember Clyde pulling up by his hair, to face level and threatening him in a low, husky voice. No one would suspect Clyde Donovan to be cruel, mean. But I watched him in action and it wasn't pretty.
"Listen, bitch. You do what I want and you do it right"
And this is where I would intervene. My fist would collide with his face and he'd fall to a heap on the floor. He was disgusting, scum. And I was ashamed to have even touched him.
My gaze fell to my love, my Tweek. He held his head down, and I could see him crying. Slowly, I crouched down to his level and put my hand under his chin, lifting his face up,
"Your safe now,"
And I'd hold him as he weakly collapse in my arms.
I'd walk through hell for you, let it burn right through my shoes
These soles are useless without you
Through hell for you, let the torturing ensue;
My soul is useless without you...