When did this lamp's glow
become so yellow and so harsh...

Why can't I be an anchor?
Why can't I be strong...

She sits in a white room
stares at the walls...

Tornado realities
spinning out of control...

Claustrophobia begins to overtake
i see, i feel, i hear...

Sure, her art's a different kind
but she's breaking from her shell...

Sweet dreams burning through the air
can you taste them on your tongue...

Stronger than perceived to be,
even when she's a bleeding mess...

Oh, lovely spring rain,
realistic chill in the air...

Oh, tragic comedies,
over before they can start...

Little colored lights
dotting the world below...

Your avoidance is endearing,
so sweet you'd think of me...