"About other" people is my escape.
Their world is so much more interesting
with socks in colour, bones and skin
it's lovely when I hear them sing
those songs in which I'm listening
it's lives I live between the bars.
Of pain, of cups in tea, we're
wringing out the dishes see
past glass that's grey, oh glasses
green it's marked in hearts
we love, we gleam.
What stories told me to get out
which books I read not in my head
where bugs could talk and ghosts could cry
with stories pouring out their eyes-
I learned to think for other's thoughts
and people grew like coloured spots
I am not me not just this soul
these thoughts aren't mine but
Theirs, how drôle est ca.