Either you yourself are mad, or the world must be
And bodies are just gloves for our lovely lovely fingers
Skin tight, thick, impenetrable,
And so I take it into me.
It is strange to me, every time you look at my awkward, too tall form
Putting my glove inside your glove inside my glove inside your glove
Till we're a Mickey Mouse ham fist of fingers.
The seasons come and I keep my soul
Which I may or may not believe in.
Keep yours. It wouldn't fit me.
And I will shine and I will be counted
One in one, every time.
The beast incarnate in my flower pots.
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