I know it doesn’t matter whether I am a child to this adventure or whether I have the cold and fever
But somehow the audience expects me to sing of the crevices I’ve tried so hard to fill with love, it expects me to undress my diamond mind
You know, I hope you had the mercy of a eunuch or the vision of an evangelist on mission, then you’d be able to swim through my sewer
Still you expect me to hum of the melodies that once shattered every bone that lined me up, the very same melody that broke my spirit into a million and one pieces, scattering my diamond mind
If I could, I’d light your way through the mines and caves, I’d hold your torches as you unveiled the master puppeteer
But it seems you only want to hear of the rhythm that swayed my blue heart and sank my ship way down under the sea’s deep blue hue. Maybe the treasure I’d never find stood to be found
Do you even notice the marks of abrasion and years of torment, do you?
I have the song and I will not sing even a line from its rhymes
I have the melodies but I will not hum nuisance into this diamond frame
If you will or may, displace my head where it rests on my shoulders
Whatever comes my way, blue or gray my tongue remaines as it wills, in a haunted silence of grace
I will not sing about love.
I will only sing of how it made me curve.