I wish That my dreams Didn't give This garden Thorns. And if I thought Anything Different Could exist, I'd carve It into The walls Of my skull A million Times Until I went Blind Inside. But where Would I find the ink To paint this picture If I didn't Cut my eyes on these spikes every time? But where Would I find the ink To paint this picture If I didn't Cut my eyes on these spikes every time? But where Would I find the ink To paint this picture If I didn't Cut my eyes on these spikes every time? Every time?