They say it's the quiet ones
that are the real freaks
but i'm pretty normal
for me

and so..

if by freak they mean
living without regret
within the secrets i keep
and loving all
of the rainbow dreams
i dream
and indulging in
the delicious passions
i crave
and never saying sorry
for the weird ***
what's wrong with you?
does your mother know?
kind of life
i fully intend
to live
then yeah..
maybe they've got a point

and so..

by that reckoning..
i must be
the most unapologetic
and quietest freak
you're ever likely to meet

do you think you'll ever lay her to rest?
allow her to sleep?
she's stayed awake for months on end
and every time she tried to close her eyes
you shook her awake
again

telling just one more tale
one more tall story
one more lie
that we must all
simply listen to

listen to this little ditty
i'm sure you'll recall it
once i'm done
do you remember the time we...?
no.. not really..

without sleep
all she sees are hallucinations
disjointed recollections
of the tissue paper life
that blows..

in the breeze

did you know
sleep deprivation
is a form of torture?

and you have kept her up
long enough

and she's tired of being worn
like an overcoat
as your splendid outer garment
in all it's melancholy finery
passersby remark
on how well you wear her
and you have the audacity to say
'Oh this old thing'

she's wearing thin and eventually
she'll disappear
altogether

she's becoming threadbare in places
and no matter how tightly
you wrap yourself up in her
she won't keep you warm

but that's only because
you don't want her to get warm
or let her go to sleep
you just won't let her rest in peace
will you