Is there a way to say what I feel without having to hide in strawberry fields.
I look for a way to disguise my cries, with clever language and creative lies.
Despise me if you really care about another mothers terrible heir.
Dare to spare me a little change, I need a sip of something strange.
The taste of nature smelling sweet now signifies I am complete.

I don't mean to say what manages to emerge.
When it comes to gluttony, we always tend to purge.
Scrambling through the dialogue I've logged within my cerebellum cell.
Heaven is a Neverland, this place, a kind of Hell.