Is this real or is it a dream?

I can't seem to tell the difference any more

Caught between needing and the need to be real

Your open arms gaping like a busted sore



I turn and burn my back like a rack

Your tourniquet twists me, dangerous red

I breath in the air, it's pavement grey

It shrinks my skin and I've done nothing wrong



I drop to my knees and work my skin

I feel this life pumping right through me

Love and death die on the dirty floor

Your upturned face doesn't even see



This is all I'll ever have

It's cos I don't know what I want

But something's inside, something's inside

Something's inside, but I've done nothing wrong



They'll make a film

Ask me the question

I have the pleasure



My voice is nothing

My thoughts are nothing

In many respects I'm like you

Nothing



I've done nothing wrong