When you force me to bow down,
When you force me to bite my tongue,
When blood spurts out my mouth,
When tears squeeze out their ducts,

I like to pretend I'm standing on a stage.

Some people say it makes it worse;
Some people prefer picturing a small empty white room,
But I like to think I'm in a theater of sorts
Acoustically engineered; soundly designed

Whatever I say ricochets off its concave domes
And comes back, piercing me de part en part,
Yeah, it hurts.
Pain echoes from wall to wall, ceiling to floor, dimension to dimension,

But at least there I can sing,
I can scream and shout,
And the world will know,
The globe will spin and reel and raise its arms.

Then, the orchestra falls, the walls crumble, the illusion shatters
And I am back in the world of the unheard.