| In the hum of time you stand | |
| Frozen like a stopped clock's hands | |
| Wrapped in the things you wear for comfort | |
| Only your eyes show your terror | |
| Your chalky skin is thick but frail | |
| Like Egyptian paper | |
| And pent blood deafens your brain | |
| Till you think you've let the outside world in | |
| And you're like a star in the heaven | |
| That's cold bright and beautiful | |
| And just like a star in heaven | |
| You're so unreachable | |
| You imagine yourself a statue | |
| To be looked at with a price | |
| Around your neck to show how much you're worth | |
| And how you shouldn't be touched | |
| But you're made of flesh and yearnings | |
| Like all the rest of us around you | |
| No statue ever cried like you | |
| When your mother weaned you |
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