Paying a visit to the glass-eyed man,
he finds those spots on me that make me well.
I have no fear from him and none from you
as you open your heart to tell.

“Fool, with the pretty blue ribbon,
Fool, with the party dress on,
I could have told you what the crowd would say
when you opened your mouth to sing.”

Paying a visit to the pink-eyed man,
he plays those parts on me that make me soft.
I could have told you what the crowd would want,
but you opened your eyes to see.

They could never have loved you.
They could never have kissed you,
praising the parts of you that fill your grave
and demanding what you already gave.

I keep pushing my soul through a needle’s eye.
And the glass eyes they stare back at me.
They say, “relax, be soft, you can let it all out,
if a baby you choose to be.