I sliced her hair
in tiny pieces of yesterday and dreams
I put her big brown eyes on a tray of illusions,
of dust and despair
I slit her thigh uncovering the 7 years of lust
I smiled at her and everything turned blue;
there is no understanding behind the weird messages I send
there is no goal in wanting you to come over
there’s no happy ending to this insane story
there’s just thighs and hands and breasts and smiles
there’s just delusion and madness
there’s just want
and over all of these –
there’s you
there's someone in my head - but it's not me 
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