On The Subject Of Turning Insane
My self confidence has resigned
Now I walk with indifference
With my will and my fear
Following me from a distance
So presence please
Make love to me
Clean my head with nonsense
You are a whore that I can afford
Nobody wants my conscience
If I cannot open to what I love
Then will it be gone, along with the sun
That shines just slightly
Upon anything I hope for
I'm alone where dreams are born
Where my eyelids hide your picture from the sun
This stupid dolled up longing
That I cough up every morning
This is my skin you see
Stretched all over me
Tightened around so perfectly
Exposed to other peoples eyes,
Safety-pins, razorblades and knives
