Failed every period
Did baroque badly
Afraid of blood
Dream was too lonely
I chose keeping it together
In these Ikea white walls
Of my post-[?] silence
But only desire is real
I must find some kind of art form
Where I can tow my [?]
Back from the underground
Back from the underground
There are multitudes
There are multitudes
In the doctor's office
Speculum pulls me open
Spacing the space
Accidental sci-fi
Regulating
My aperture
Measure my [?]
Some people find it painful
But all I feel is connected
All I feel is connected
There must be some kind of art form
Where I can pour my blood
There are multitudes
There are multitudes
There are multitudes
Don't be afraid
It's only blood
