| I tried to wear the world like some kinda garment
|
| I reach my fingers down inside of all the clinging pockets
|
| In fabric, stained and torn and scratched
|
| Pulling at the seams
|
| I wandered out onto the streets like that
|
| Dressed so gracelessly
|
| It does not matter to the world if I embody it
|
| It could not matter less that I wanted to be a part of it
|
| Still I fumble with my hands and tongue
|
| To open and to part it
|
| I tried to wear the world like some kinda jacket
|
| It does not keep me warm, I cannot ever seem to fasten it
|
| Bodies never want not to move, they wanted all of it
|
| To be hidden, to be touched, to be known
|
| To be undressed, to be clothed
|
| Why can’t I be the body graceful in the cloth of it?
|
| Why can’t you want me for the way I cannot handle it?
|
| Am I ever understood?
|
| Am I hidden by this hood?
|
| I tried to wear each word that you had ever said to me
|
| Even as careless as it turns out you have been with me
|
| I still reach out to hold everything that I’m told
|
| I still reach out to hold everything that I’m told
|
| I still reach out to hold
|
| To touch until we fold
|
| I still reach out to hold
|
| I still reach out to hold |