i live in a cold world with my cold hands and the cold bodies around me
creating creatures i'll never hold
statues fill my dinner table and if i imagine they are talking to me
we talk of a different life
where i learn to braid my hair, i go on long walks through the streets
and i say hello to people when i see them
in that world i have dinner parties that last all night
i leave the windows open
warm to the touch and pleasing to the eye
in that life, we spend hours discovering the freckles no one has seen yet.
in that life, you say i am beautiful.
i am beautiful,
now, even at my empty dining table,
i am the life of the party.
men pass through here, whisper my name.
whether it is of fear or desire,
it is still my name