• It's blank and black and tossed in turmoil
    A fear refused to be claimed
    Push it to the back
    Make it turn gray
    Ashes in the wind
    Blindblink, backwards, turned around,
    Machine washed on cold
    Brittle and stiff, too dry
    And the truth is scratchy against my skin
    And the hives make me want to cry
    And the breath feels so thin
    Ignorance is bliss
    In a childlike mind
    Crisscrossed and the truth is a sty
    That just won't go away...
    Your eyes are always so eager to stray