Stultified longing
Aping an ache for the truth
I'm a ruse of recluse
An imposter hermit
Hiding pretending it's me
Belied by the hammers that constant caress
Lonely dulcet one-sixteenths
Tiny lonely lonely lonely
It's the song I know
And here I am again
Lapsed into apathy
Stultified longing
Aping an ache for the truth
Maybe tomorrow finds
Finally dyeing
My heart red
Instead of my cheeks
And maybe the music
Will yet resolve
Into peculiar,
quiet harmonies
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