My brain is a wheelchair And people think I am flying Over cities and wastelands Jungle gyms and green public pools I assume the role of deformity I am my very best Judas Because I am lazy and can walk with the rest of them
My heart is deformed and dumb And perfect people pity it They hold it tight and translate Its mumblings and tantrums Into innocent sermons I feel bad for my heart too It should have been thrown off a cliff Like the ancients used to do
My hands are plastic machines And I fear them more than God They scratch me in my sleep They poke holes in my stomach and my faces But worst of all They write letters that show people places I’ve never dared to be.