My fortress is my mind; fallen and
fallible
My soul is my animal; lurid and lovable
When I am sad, I do a little dance
Hold myself in my own arms
And pray for a second chance
My desire is my grave; misunderstood
and miserable
My life is my journey; disillusioned
and damnable
When I am sad, I sing a little song
Seat myself in my own throne
And wish all the right was wrong
My problem is my heart; immortal and
incurable
My hand is my strength; little and
laughable
When I am sad, I do a little dance
Hold myself in my own arms
And pray for a second chance
My hatred is my favorite; ready and
reusable
My love is my enigma; unreal and
unknowable
When I am sad, I sing a little song
Seat myself in my own throne
And wish all the right was wrong
Her fortress was my mind; it did not
end well
Her pet was my soul; maybe I will burn
in Hell
When she is sad, she does not think of
me
She is held in the arms of another
She does not wonder what has become of
me
Her grave would have been my desire
Her journey would have ended in fire
When she is sad, she does not sing for
me
She is under the rule of no one
She will go on living, continuing to be
free
Her problem was never her heart
Her strength was what drove us apart
When she is sad, she does not think of
me
She is held in the arms of another
She does not wonder what has become of
me
My hatred is my favorite; ready and
reusable
My love is my enigma; unreal and
unknowable
When I am sad, I do a little dance
Hold myself in my own arms
And pray for a second chance
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