Drowning in a sea of righteousness, There's only me and the caresses Of the waters of my brain That rise and fall in me again And leave me lying. Set against the season's whitest snows, So my inadequacy shows As I fight against the pain On the bed where I have lain Alone and crying. Behind the charity charade There lies the gleaming silver blade That treats my body with disdain That evermore it shall remain There petrifying. Destined for consumption by the crowd, I ride along, aloof and proud To be amongst the fold again And to no longer be insane But slowly dying. Or maybe buying my time...