| How the mind does shout for rest
|
| When the bodies shaken, yeah
|
| Oh the tightness in my chest
|
| Still your leaves I’m raking
|
| Lord is this a test
|
| Was it fun creating, yeah?
|
| My god’s a little sick
|
| And he wants me crazy
|
| Who
|
| Are you
|
| Who can say
|
| It’s ok to live through me?
|
| Live to be Part of me You’re a wrinkled magazine
|
| Yeah
|
| Was it something that I said?
|
| Was it how they’re breaking, yeah
|
| I’m so selfish, paying your rent
|
| While your blood I’m taking
|
| You
|
| Spend me Like a tree
|
| Dirty dollar bills for leaves
|
| Dark in a sea
|
| Of my seeds
|
| And the tears on which you feed
|
| You feed
|
| The body is a temple
|
| A dormant alter
|
| To where infantile men lie around
|
| Itching and nibbling
|
| For a small piece of sanity
|
| Of which you can not give
|
| Shit!
|
| Individuality
|
| Buying pennies with my soul
|
| And a little Heaven spent
|
| While the Hell I’m taking
|
| Thieves
|
| Parasites
|
| Hide from life
|
| You know they’ll remember me They are abhorred
|
| In self-worth
|
| All that matters much to me |