Vomitorium from Stanza by Mitchell Bergeron

A numb sense of starvation
Minuscule in my eyes
Sullen in my senses,
Pride is not the answer
Pride is not the answer.
My pulsing veins ooze their blood
Guts evacuate the women and children first.

We are all the same behind the closed doors of the vomitorium.

I project my vomit and my vomit tells me who I am.

Just another lost soul in the vomitorium.

I go when I have to,
I go when I need to,
I go when I want to,
I feel pure in the vomitorium.
Behind those closed doors of the vomitorium.

We are all the same behind the closed doors of the vomitorium.

I feel the best at my worst.
I feel lost when I'm surrounded
My life, your life,
We're all the same behind the closed doors of the vomitorium.

We come with buckets in salt-stained garbs,
Waiting for our bodies to do as our minds tell them to.
We are all the same behind the closed doors of the vomitorium.

The rich are poor,
The poor are dying,
The young become old,
The old are dead.
Bodies on sweaty bodies in the vomitorium.
We are all the same behind the closed doors of the vomitorium.

We are all the same behind the closed doors of the vomitorium
And it will never end.

In the vomitorium,
In the vomitorium
In the vomitorium,
In the vomitorium.
In the vomitorium,
In the vomitorium
In the vomitorium,
In the vomitorium.

• Alternative
• Electronic
• acoustic
• pop
• songwriter
• Burlington