Is this real or is it a dream?
I can't seem to tell the difference any more
Caught between needing and the need to be real
Your open arms gaping like a busted sore
I turn and burn my back like a rack
Your tourniquet twists me, dangerous red
I breath in the air, it's pavement grey
It shrinks my skin and I've done nothing wrong
I drop to my knees and work my skin
I feel this life pumping right through me
Love and death die on the dirty floor
Your upturned face doesn't even see
This is all I'll ever have
It's cos I don't know what I want
But something's inside, something's inside
Something's inside, but I've done nothing wrong
They'll make a film
Ask me the question
I have the pleasure
My voice is nothing
My thoughts are nothing
In many respects I'm like you
Nothing
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