Zen Attic

I once worked in an attic.
Collecting dust on the side.
The sun cracked through the window pane.
The wind moaned through the cracks in pain.

Skinning itself alive.
Skinning itself alive.
Skinning itself alive.

I once was a good dancer.
Or so the teddy bear said.
We've been locked in here so long.
That we have become depressed.

Kidding ourselves alive.
Kidding ourselves alive.
Kidding ourselves alive.

I once lived in the real world.
Until it deemed me insane.
I found zen in the attic.
And we've never been the same.

Hiding out inside here.
Hiding out inside.
Hiding out inside here.