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.