Wylan Neckett's blog: "Oragami Cookie Monsters"

Back to the cold restless streets at night. Talk to myself about tomorrow night. Walls of white protest a gravestone in name. Who is it now? It's always the same. Who is it now? Who calls me inside? Are the leaves on the trees just a living disguise? I walk the street rain tragicomedy. I'll walk home again to the street melody. Life through a window. Discolored pain. Mrs. Brown's washing is always the same. Do you feel in me anything redeeming? Any worthwhile feeling? Is love like a tightrope hanging on my ceiling?

Sometimes I feel like I don't know. Sometimes I feel like checking out. I wanna get it wrong; can't always be strong and love, it won't be long. The day it is dark, as the night is long. I'm in the black, can't see or be seen. You bury your treasure where it can't be found. But your love is a secret that's been passed around. There is a silence that comes to a house where no-one can sleep. I guess it's the price of love; I know it's not cheap. I remember when we could sleep on stones. Now we lie together in whispers and moans. When I was all messed up and I heard opera in my head your love was a light bulb hanging over my bed.