Inspecting myself, ignoring the calls
Pressing my ear up against the walls
Tasting the soil, no place like home
Softly arranging my garden of bones
Stinging like bees, dropping like flies
Every day something new in my eyes
Catching myself thinking all the wrong thoughts
Touching the stove when I know that It's hot
Benevolent god, so sweetly adorned
Is using my chest as an ironing board
Clawing at skin and hair
Grasping at absence and gasping for air
Down in my well, I've sorted it out
I'm sending the lotion down to myself
I am the girl in fear and the man who will kill her
When she tries to get out
Down in my well, I've sorted it out
I'm sending the lotion down to myself
I am the man in fear and the girl who will kill him
When she tries to get out