I’m just trying to mirror my internal state of mind
Peculiar, we reveal ourselves as we cover with hides
With these patterns hanging on threads of fabric
Mama says they’ll judge anyway, so make it positive
The blood, the sweat, it held it all
Its faint odour of agony tells it all

Maybe it’s a wall, maybe it’s a door
Maybe it’s the paint I use to hide the flaws
Perhaps it’s my freedom, perhaps it’s my habit
Maybe it’s my expression, maybe I’m an addict
Perhaps I want you to see me in this
So sometime you’d want to see me without it
I just want these robes to hide the scars in my history
At least until I’m lying breathless in Minnie’s haberdashery


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