Done With the Talking Cure -

My arms, they burn with poison

Gregor Samsa’d to insect feelers overnight

Prague looks dismal in black & white

What are you gonna do about it,

all you sensitive women with your sensitive pasts?

I’m done with the talking cure

Done with the circles and anecdotes

I’m ready for some fire and brimstone

I’m ready for «I told you so», and Manna

Arms come and arms go

and nobody ever knows how they’re supposed to feel

Bodies pull apart

and nobody has the heart to stitch them together again

My heart is stuffed with cotton

it slows the bleeding but leaves you feeling half-alive

There’s no shame if you take a dive

What are you gonna do about it,

all you sensitive women with your sensitive pasts?

I’m done with the talking cure

Done with the circles and anecdotes

I’m ready for some fire and brimstone

I’m ready for «I told you so», and Manna