I rocked my cradle
And stressed me open
Instead of a butterfly
I found only space,
Yet to be filled.
In essence
Existence became nothing
Up could be down
Black might be white
All truth may well unfold as a lie.
Full sheets of empty canvas.
Waiting for that painter
That creating astonishment
All the bliss and grievance in a bottle.

Rewind to re-record,
Repair mistakes,
Twist me around,
Turn me inside out,
Auction my heart and soul
But keep complete control
To keep dreaming I'm alive.