When I return, I dream of another life, failure transparent in the palm of my hand.
I am the contortionist, we are the contortionist.
I can feel this distance is further and farther without you.
Contorting to fit, somewhere I do not belong.
Brick by brick, stone on top of stone,
I create, from these towers, built of nothingness.
I will fall, and like these wordless feelings,
there is an emptiness we long to feel inside.
Father when will you come home.
I have been dying inside.
Mother where have you gone, oh how hard I've been trying.
Hours upon hours, I am fucking sleepless.
We are wretched, no sleep for the wicked.
And at night we come undone.
We are anything, we are the contortionist.
This is not who I ever was.
We are the wordless feelings, we are the great divide.
We are the emptiness we long to feel inside.