I'm not converting,
I'm not converting,
I'm not converting yet.
I'm not turning,
I'm not converting,
I'm not converting yet.
(but I won't deny what I am)
Let's not see I'm
cutting snarls
from my hair.
And I'm bleeding
on the ground,
And I'm not quite sure from where.
(but I won't deny what I am)
And if I'm saying it, I'm screaming it;
Maybe this is just a phase for me?
Not rehab-reject-exia,
Just awkwardness an acne.
People like how they look from the back
You turn around, I'm looking at
Some face I think I've seen before.
It's like a trick, but somehow worse.
I'm reminded
of the walk
to my door.
Broken glass
mixed in to long
an inscription on my skull
(saying that there's something wrong)
And if I'm saying it, I'm screaming it;
Maybe this is just a phase for me?
Not rehab-reject-exia,
Just awkwardness an acne.
People like how they look from the back
You turn around, I'm looking at
Some face I think I've seen before.
It's like a trick, but somehow worse.