.
..
...
I don't know the words that makes this madness go away.
The words I've spoken are burying my own grave
and I don't know why there are no coffins below.
Where did all the skeletons go?

I think i'll have to get a new wardrobe.
I think I know where all the skeletons go.

I want to try on some different clothes,
but all my outfits seem to be made up of bones.
I don't understand why I don't like my own home.
I think I know where all the skeletons roam.

I think i'll have to hide in my wardrobe.
I think I know where all the skeletons roam.
...
..
.