Don’t Price Me, I’m Nothing.

Lock me in a cellar and I’ll claw my way out,

birth blood from my fingers; gasp air from the gods.

Trap me in a wine bottle, I’ll drill through the cork,

when my belly is full and my teeth are stained dark.

Give me a mirror i’ll smother it in paint,

since I can’t use my mind when it’s wrapped in my face.

Hold me at ransom, I’ll swallow the telephone,

don’t price me, I’m nothing, don’t price me, I’m nothing.

 

My soul scrapes the pavement while running away,

can’t hammer my body in a place it will stay.

Cast me in tarmac, a statue of road,

park trucks on my madness so it has nowhere to go.

I yawn at the sun and I cry with the moon

while tree roots creep slowly, leaves wither slowly.

Carve me in bark so I know my own shape,

as my trunk breathes alive as my branches burst veins.

I look into mirrors but only see ghosts with guns in their hands.

 

Call me a name and I’ll be at its birthplace,

call me a name and I’ll burst from its loins,

call me a name and I’ll bury its bones

but don’t ask me to spell it, I’ll get it all wrong

the smoke screen of death can’t be moved by a song

and no fairy lights will make visions appear.

 

No fairy lights will make visions appear.