I shiver when I think of being glass My delicate expressions have been splattered with ink Since I could play in the grass without losing my breath And having my legs fold under me I shiver when I think of being glass When I think of lying flat in my bed with my arms open to the ceiling And having my legs fold under me I want to be a sculpture for you When I think of lying flat in my bed with my arms open to the ceiling I loathe and shake at the thought of my eyes going flat and my arms crossing over my breast And having my legs fold under me I’m going to shatter myself so you can paint me blue
