Rubin

You are sewing a red ribbon

Weaving anxiety

To make a blanket so that you can

hide

From the mess that you've made

You are sewing a red

Weaving

anxiety

And in every loop of stitching

Your thread becomes frayed

Riddled

up in its own meaning

Knowledge you ought to face

Seems to me that all your

troubles

Are away in another place

you are knitting up a blanket

Of all the

anguish that you feel

And your wrapping me up warm

Hoping I'm gonna

steal

All your problems

But I'm not

I don't see the problems with this cloth

For you it might be itchy

But for me its warm and soft

For you it might be

itchy

But for me its warm and soft

Take each corer of this rag

And pinch

it ready side from side

Take your hurdle razor flame and scratch up the crap

while its alive

And remember to forget

Upon these deaths of which you

wish

Your scrap book filled with memories

That make up your bitter

dish

Clever boy you learned to taste

But careful don't eat off your tongue

In eagerness and greed we find out what you've done wrong

So chew well your

plate of past

And handle well the bitter taste

None worst than what is

left

The wicked boy has left waste

I tell ya

None worst than what is

left

The wicked boy is left to waste

I tell ya

Hurdle, hurdle,

Hurdle

razor flame

Hurdle, hurdle,

Hurdle razor flame.