Home is a consequence, made of all you think you want to know
Life has not offered me anywhere that I'd call home
Do you want me to taste you? Can you touch me?
Do you want me to touch you? Can you feel me?
Do you want me to fuck you? Can you heal me?
You can't heal me - You can't know me
Sinking deep, much too deep, digging deeper than I ever cared to be
I don't think, I don't need, but I care about it
What's the point in doing it, anyway?
You are a sacrifice, forced to not accept yourself
I cannot offer you anything that you'd hold true
Truths often tell a lie; lies that I think you should know
Not that I realize. Just a simple fuck around.
I am a consequence
Made of all you think you want to know
Life has not offered me
Anywhere that you'd call home