I am not a Sunday morning inside four walls with clean blood and organized drawers.

I am not a Sunday morning inside four walls

with clean blood

and organized drawers.

I am the hurricane setting fire to the forests

at night when no one else is alive

or awake

however you choose to see it

and I live in my own flames

sometimes burning too bright and too wild

to make things last

or handle

myself or anyone else

and so I run.

run run run

far and wide

until my bones ache and lungs split

and it feels good.

Hear that people? It feels good

because I am the slave and ruler of my own body

and I wish to do with it exactly as I please