Manufactured Missing Children
Everyone is born inside of photo booths here
With stolen names and a birthday that makes no sense
They have to be told to feel what they feel
These manufactured missing children are really here

And they're innocent, they're innocent
Not innocent at all
They're innocent, not innocent
Not innocent at all

The yellow man in a wheelchair won't let me sleep
Lemonade and scrambled eggs arе all that he'll eat
This is why I go inside mysеlf

And I'm innocent, I'm innocent
Not innocent at all

There's nothing left to see here
There's nothing left to see
There's nothing left to see here
There's nothing left to see
Nothing isn't ever wrong with me