I put my hands over a freezing fire I fall to the ground and land on a soft rock I look up to the sky and what do I notice A group of worms burrowing into the clouds
I cannot feel the warmth with the shoes on my hands Nor can I feel the cold with the gloves on my feet I can see the suffering with my own ears I can hear the torment with my own eyes
I shout with a whisper I whisper with a shout I am dead and I am conscious of that I am beaming with life and cannot feel a thing
Yes I am confused, bordering the depths of craziness That is how I was made, molded and shaped Because the world led me to believe That what is bad is in fact good.
