There is a man, no-one has seen
Whose eyes are a sickly shade of green...

There’s a madman in my block of flats
He writes obscenities on the wall...

There’s singles in your area and they want to...
And by the look of their pictures you’re in for...

Beneath my wrist there are violin strings
But their music feels lost in the past...

As another sun rises
On another broken daughter...

In day with sun low and beaming
I beheld a fellow dreaming...

Laid here is so strange
A place without a door...

I need to be cleanly
I want to be free...

Watching a bare tree
And the rope that hangs from it...

The path still calls me
The dark forest and the heart tree...

Through nets as fine as spider web
His bloodshot eyes covet their meal...

These animals were picked for the waste they make
So that your roses could grow strong in time...