Beware,

The empty ones take good notes...
The coveting ones bearing swords maneuvering psychicly-unbeknownst to them

They’ll suck you dry, become a facade of you, then move on to the next 

He is furry faced now
His body moves fluently
Once so awkward, decrepit-crawl-like
His face once so wild as sound escapes
He wears hats now
His hair is long now
He has style now
I want to dislike it, do I, I'm not sure
But it's still weird
A genuine weird
He's still weird
So it's ok
His voice is still the same
Certain mannerisms, still as off as ever
So it's ok
I'm still soothed
All is ok
We're ok

The light returned with those familiar twinges of mania...