to preach insanity
screaming blanks in the streets
twisted limbs
hang from twisted bodies
malnourished and dangerous
the edge people
they live life
balanced on their tiptoes
in a bathtub
choking on their sins
sins which they didn't commit
an old rocking chair
sits in a wooded clearance
forgotten and mossy
hopes and dreams
stripped layer by layer
until the marrow is all gone
to preach madness
that's what they want from me
to call us mad men
but there's no such thing
there
is no
such thing