Window کے بول

I'm not your body anymore But this crying at your door I'm not made like that I've got a calling I've got a window Where my cat sits Where my cat licks my face The skin is peeling away Peeling away, peeling away In the shadows of the morning light With all the curtains open wide And across the room a wilting plant And upon my lap my folded hands How long can I sit like this? Been a couple weeks Since I've moved these hips Just to touch myself When I'm alone Just to fold my hands back up Just to fold my hands back up Just to fold my hands back up And in the wanderings of my nothingness In a wading through of uncrossed lists And in the wanderings of my nothingness In a wading through of uncrossed lists And in the wanderings of my nothingness In a wading through of uncrossed lists