some mirrors sewn by my hips some sewn by my hands some inside my mind cause I am strange some songs remain the same I hear this again I am too sensitive too serious too vocal too tired too absent or too silent? too crazy (but what do you mean?) I am scarry, she said, but fascinating well, loneliness is not fascinating I wanna shout but I refrain myself from this refrain it can be a blessing, I agree but wait, there's more cause I speak some bizarre words bizarre as in the byzantium although I try to keep it as simple as the milk foam on your lips
yes, this is my language and these are my days to be too much of myself exactly as I am in each breath each step and each cry as strange as any creature that has ever walked under the light tide
if you find me too strange you can look the other way