Bjork

Darling, stop confusing me with your wishful thinking
Hopeful embraces, don’t you understand?
I have to go through this
I belong to here where no one cares and no one loves
No light, no air to live in
A place called hate, the city of fear

I play dead
It stops the hurting
I play dead
And the hurt stops

It’s sometimes just like sleeping
Curling up inside my private tortures
I nestle into pain
Hug suffering, caress every ache

I play dead
It stops the hurting
I play dead
It stops the hurting

I play dead
It stops the hurting
I play dead
It stops the hurting