Roses are red
and froggies are green...

They can't tell me who to be,
cause I'm not what they see...

The blood runs down streaking the walls,
as I felt the cries and heard the calls...

Sticks and Stones may break my bones,
but whips and chains excite me...

I ask these questions everynight,
asked straight to the one with will and might...

Why does my heart beat this way?
I want it to simply go away...

His hair is like darkness,
Janurary nights...