performers. You're wishful thinking, hopeful embraces Don't you understand, I have to go through this I belong to you and no one cares No one loves, no life, no air to live in A place called hate, the city of you Just can't, can't, can't I play dead It stops the sting I play dead And the hurt stops It's sometimes just like sleeping Curling up inside my private tortures I nestle into pain Like suffering Caress every hand, hand, hand, hand I play dead It stops the sting I play dead
