| Here I am, hardly breathing in at all |
| I cough when I can and that’s about all |
| I am this man and though I turn the tape to a happier song |
| My face can’t find a smile because it’s been looking too long |
| You arrive like a locust swarm |
| You devastated me and now when you leave the room |
| My heart, head, hands and all forms |
| Go from red-hot blood to bone dry and lukewarm |
| You’re the sticks and stones, girl |
| You’re the fire and flames |
| I might be half-dead and half-born, girl |
| But whales start singing when I hear your name |
| I’m heaped with hate like acid rain |
| Nothing can restrain the loathing and disgust I have |
| And there is no one I distrust |
| More than the happy whores who buy and trade |
| Crawling on all fours, backwards into holes and fires |
| That wealth and self-congratulations made |
| You’re the sticks and stones, girl |
| You’re the fire and flames |
| You’re the punishment, the pleasure, the employment and the leisure |
| You’re the sweet conversation and the cutting names |
| Heart, head, hands and all forms |
| Went from red-hot blood to bone dry and lukewarm |
| Whales stopped singing and the ships were bringing in toadstools |
| And moss instead of sugar beet and corn |
| And all the girls in the world were distorted and deformed |
| When the first leech was let loose and my jealousy was born |
| You’re the sticks and stones, girl |
| You’re the fire and flames |