I can't slip my skin.
I'm full of dust.
I'm chemically imbalanced.
I'm cancer.
Bad astrology's the answer.
If I were a child again,
I'd be holy, and not insane.
I've got the tear.
I can't get out of the void, into the light.
Out of the void, into the light.
I'm scarecrow man.
I'm made of rags and straw
I'm paranoid.
I can't see, or feel, or speak.
I just hang.
I'm so tired, I can't sleep.
I'm so hungry, I can't eat.
I've got the fear.
I can't get out of the void, into the light.
Out of the void, into the light.