I have a glove full of pointless bones and veins Sucking the blood from my heart like leaches Containing nothing but weight I am heavily walking left again
My complaint stems from the miscalculations of assembly gone wrong Five shovels dig their way into my skin as a symbol of rejection Poor attempts to even me out consist of asking stubborn men To believe in something they doubt A bona-fide affliction of necessity
Open my head and examine the threads connecting fingers to the brain A simple seed planted in me grew into an interposing tree The world has been overlooking obvious signs of informality Embrace the light of those speaking without a mouth full of twisted tongues
Weaved and complexes, ridges like waterways spill Where the ocean meets the shore of my wrist I alleviate the tempting, so tempting urge to unfasten This is not a temporary affair, I am prepared to be more helpless