I'm not your body anymore But this crying at your door I'm not made like that
I've got a calling I've got a window Where my cat sits Where my cat licks my face
The skin is peeling away Peeling away, peeling away
In the shadows of the morning light With all the curtains open wide And across the room a wilting plant And upon my lap my folded hands
How long can I sit like this? Been a couple weeks Since I've moved these hips
Just to touch myself When I'm alone
Just to fold my hands back up Just to fold my hands back up Just to fold my hands back up
And in the wanderings of my nothingness In a wading through of uncrossed lists And in the wanderings of my nothingness In a wading through of uncrossed lists And in the wanderings of my nothingness In a wading through of uncrossed lists
