There is a string of things hung with ideas as clothes pins
They take off the ideas and the string can't hold the thing
Memories are strands that if you pull it will never stop unwinding
The common person sees something in the little he won in life
The rest are rather useful than pleasant
Nobody received flowers or fame
If you could see now I'm dying to drown in flames
The love I've been placed through has to be the stuff of myth
It seems to hold back until the graze
The way it holds by taking
The way you hold by cradling
There's so much in me that you already know
I have a bit of wrinkles and the acne scars too
The whole of society sees me as living the dream
But the parts of me that people think are hidden are on the internet
See what the world knows
I should be aware of all the rules I've broken to be here
Then no purposeful ignorance can be said of me
There has to be someone who can point out the crumb on my lower lip
Rather than speak without the relevance of politeness
There's something about the way you hold me
That says you're trying me on
There is no transaction taking place
Treasure is most found on the map of my slow heartbeat
The calm before the storm siphons its way into my blood cells
Making me believe in the little I know as well
You have to be well read to read someone else's biography
You have no language if you only understand yourself
Take a bit off