My ears were made for writing songs
How do you tell a wall that it's wrong?
Hackney a mural of Satan and God
In bold, bright acrylic, and set it on fire?

The torment of this true mirage
Is twisting his mind in indelible nots.
She sacrificed her only pawn
To lose the game, a one for one.

I gnaw at my flesh, and gnash, and claw
To find the meaning, deep inside
To take a step back's to witness truth
The horrid act of self-mutilation

To write this all ensconced in grace
Is a sorry act, but why act high?
I've noticed these days, when I do
You're true, in flat resentment,
And nursing your patients as I pass by

But I'd still long for what I'm not
The wellspring of corruption sings
You seemed to me, one way at first
But life's not what it seemed to be.

And it's not what we would want to see...