Iron aftertaste on the back of my tongue,
all around my gums,
like a mouth full of blood.

Gritty concrete beneath my bare feet,
swollen joints and uncontrollable tremors,
as I sit on my stone, this is no home,
just a spacious coffin.

Upside down piggy bank,
cork on the floor,
he dreams of being rich,
but instead wears a delightful frown.

And the space heater's crooked,
and it's turned on high,
collecting more dollars than the piggy can hold,
and it's still cold.

It is here where I sit,
on the coldest of nights,
where my mattress dips,
where I clench my fists,
where I fight off fits,
where I scribe my insides.

Every hello is a reason to come,
every goodbye is a reason to go back,
every kiss is a warm sip of love,
every embrace, a blanket on a cold night.

When my heart yearns and burns,
you're there to quench the fire.
When my mind wanders and aches,
you're there like a soothing choir.
I can't help but find myself helplessly falling,
entangled in my emotions, I'm silently crawling,
and when I leave you, I find myself stalling,
because I need you,
because I love you.

Pills go down the drain,
years in recovery,
only to find myself here again.

Someone told me once,
it only gets better,
well that was many years ago.

And in the morning light,
when I find truths,
they're only clouded by doubts.

And in the starry nights,
when I find peace,
darkness overcomes the love.

Colored cases over the years,
blank memories,
I can't feel my face,
I can't feel my heart.

I hide behind a cloth mask,
I drape it over my face every day,
and take it off at night.
No one knows me.

No one understands who I am,
why I am the way I am,
they just brush me aside.

So I wear the cloth mask,
and they make me what they see,
they make me what they see.

Your skin burns,
don't make me touch you,
don't make me.
Your tears burn,
don't cry on my shoulder,
don't cry on me.
There's a man hanging in your attic,
skeletons in your basement,
don't make me,
don't make me.

There was a fire yesterday,
it spread across the airwaves.
From nation to nation, pain and grief,
for the boy from Brixton left us here.

Heartbreak ravaged the lovers and friends,
for the boys time had come to an end.
An immortal in many of our eyes,
reality burned us as we cried.

Till night fell and the streets flooded,
flames smothered and flowers budded,
under the stars he adored for years,
people sang and danced and cheered.

For the boy from Brixton left his mark,
and then retreated to those stars,
leaving us with his songs and scenes,
his fashion, his love and everything between.

A lad insane with a powerful passion,
in touch with sound and all his visions,
on course for a final collision,
with his home amongst the stars.

It's like pulling teeth,
every time we make eye contact,
it hurts to even glare.

I've been ripping out my eyelashes,
hoping maybe someday,
you might not stare.

It's a desperate case of misinterpretation,
and one of us is going to lose our mind.
It's a hopeless battle as we both unravel,
both of us so fragile as we unwind.

I hear your name sometimes,
and a fire ignites behind my eyes,
fueled by misguided lies.