I woke up panicked, short a ghost
Water running in the bathroom sink
I listed sideways from my bed
And threw my body down the hall
Forearm to ledge, I braced
And smeared the steam to find my face
Imagine my confusion and my horror
As my body said to me as if to another
Baby, I'm not
Baby, I'm not
Baby, I'm not a werewolf
But I don’t know about you
But our words shared a carnivore sound
Like we cut our meat with the side of our mouths
Our words bent like knives
I remember nothing but horizon
I remember nothing but horizon
I ate miles and miles of the horizon
Limping home through a stubbled field
Missing half of my left hand
Door ajar, abandoned car
I bandaged it with a potato-chip bag
Thoughts drained out though a ruby red sluice
I could not read them
I'm here before the mirror
With the steam cleared away
I see my flanks raw, bedazzled
In a spray of rock-salt haze
Indescribable filth under my fingernails, remaining
I ate every story, I ate every myth
When I finished with the Minotaur, I ate the Labyrinth
I ate every story, I ate every myth
When I finished with the Minotaur, I ate the Labyrinth
So if I'm not, what have I done?
You dream too hard, says my reflection
But, baby, I'm not
Oh, baby, I'm not
Baby, I'm not
