I have a picture of you, taking a picture of me, in my
album, near the one where you’re feeling up a
statue....
Now I am that statue in my dream, with my arms above
my head, and your fingers always searching, for what I
never had…
But I had commandments scrawled on my body in braille,
you are blinder than hell is blinding,
Your senses,
If you scratch off the writing with your innocent
nails, you may feel your own desire – self exploding..

I’m not your prisoner, I’m not your pal don’t even say
it, don’t even ask me how it made you feel
It blowing up in steam.