When i tell them that i've lost everything, they don't realise that i have,
in fact, lost my will to live. Burned it on a hearth made of
broken twigs that were once the subtle happy semblances
of smiles i lost into my amnesia. Today, i stand open and ugly
in my nakedness, as a sculpture carved out of suffering
stuck with le maschere of tragedy and comedy
that I carry on each face. I keep holding onto my thin
gladrag skin pasted on to the body of a leper.
And when i tell them that I've lost everything,
I've, in fact, lost my own self...
in fact, lost my will to live. Burned it on a hearth made of
broken twigs that were once the subtle happy semblances
of smiles i lost into my amnesia. Today, i stand open and ugly
in my nakedness, as a sculpture carved out of suffering
stuck with le maschere of tragedy and comedy
that I carry on each face. I keep holding onto my thin
gladrag skin pasted on to the body of a leper.
And when i tell them that I've lost everything,
I've, in fact, lost my own self...
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