What for are these bubbly dreams,
When I hug myself every night to sleep,
The demons are near, the ceiling high,
I can't make a sound to weep,
They tell me to forget it,
"It's nothing," they said,
And so I shut myself,
I'm living only in my head,
Need no Samaritans,
Need no help,
I'll be my own hand,
That in my mind delves,
Pick me up, I will,
All by my own self.
