Even with the beige blinds drawn,
          I can still peek in to see you.
          Yes, through those tiny little holes,
          I can watch you change your skin.

And I know you expect privacy.
         (That’s why you closed the blinds.)
          But those itty bitty holes
          call like a million children’s screams.

Besides, what would you have me do?
          Let the little children suffer?
          Let you live with the illusion
          that when you change, you change alone?