I am a collector of things, he said
Of all I can fit in my head
Hoarding the ghosts  I have come to displace
Vicarious grins on my face
But standing beside the lot I've arranged
I conclude I am slightly deranged
The rope that I hold becomes heavy and loose
And ties itself into a noose
Somehow it dresses the nape of my neck
Like the sea wears a ship in a wreck
There is no space in my mind anymore
And I'm waiting outside by the shore
Hang up the line that contains what I am
Remind me that I'm just a man

His golden locks are ticking clocks
And slowly he becomes the fox

Chasing things and breaking rings
Around the carousel of kings

She has bled and takes her bed
And starves while he is being fed

Closing doors then finding more
His open eyes are raging, sore

Where is peace in love deceased
He'll look until his breath has ceased

And in the end her light will mend
The darkened state he can't offend

So wait for me beside the sea
He says beneath the willow tree

Then I'll return so I can burn
Collect the ash to fill the urn

It aged my soul and took its toll
Restore me now and make me whole

Oh little girl you hold my world
With seeds in hand, I feel you twirl

Cut the locks and stop the clocks
And slowly I will shed the fox

render me disabled, a girl who cannot speak
but i would rather dwell upon my words than let them leak
i've taken to the silence, my friend it has become
even though my outward state has classified me numb

fever strikes my body, my lips have turned to coal
and now the only strength i have is out of my control
but this is what i wanted, to liberate my ghost
to leave behind my weaker parts, return a perfect host

and even though you see me, i am not really there
i'm traveling upon the wind, i'm mixing with the air
but should you close your eyelids, you then will see my face
invisible to almost all, an oracle of grace