He made the world a grassy road before our bare, wandering feet, and crushed the stones into the softest sand between our toes, but we're wondering where to sleep, clever words on pages turn to fragments; Circles, points and lines, and cover them like carpets, with graceful, meaningless ornamental designs come quick, you light that knows no evening Come, alone to the alone! There are a thousand sanities worth leaving to take your madness home, you dance inside my chest where no on sees you, but sometimes I see you rejoice, the cleansing of my lips Rejoice, salvation of my soul! But I still have a thousand half-loves (Oh my God! I want to shoot myself just thinking about it) And you think I don't mean what I say? I mean every word I say. I threw a stone at the reflection of my image in the water, and it altogether disapperared. I burst, it shattered me like a bullet through a bottle, and I'm expected to believe that any of this is real.