| I built myself a small cocoon
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| To stop my heart from craving you
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| Of sandalwood and vetiver
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| Of silkworm spit and mother’s hair
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| The inside made of rosemary
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| The kind that won’t bend easily
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| Or break beneath this bane of trust
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| Or turn that awful shade of rust
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| These days, when you wear my skin
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| I feel somehow overdressed
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| I cut my teeth when I broke out
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| And spread my wings to flee the doubt
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| The dust lay stagnant in the air
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| But I have all my back to bare
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| These days, when you wear my skin
|
| I feel somehow overdressed
|
| These days, when you wear my skin
|
| I feel somehow overdressed
|
| I built myself, I built myself
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| I built myself, I built myself
|
| I built myself, I built myself
|
| I built myself, I built myself
|
| I built myself, I built myself
|
| I built myself |