I stare into. Some great abyss. And calculate. The things I'd miss. If I could only. Make some sense of this. And Madam Butterfly. Resounds. Over the mothership. Her lights. Flashing around. I float above her and. I wonder how. To make it go away. Make it go away. I crawl. Into my circumstance. Lay on the table. Begging for another chance. But I was a good girl. I can't understand how to. Make it go away. Make it go away. Sometimes I wonder. Which hurts the worse. The thougt of dying. Or reliving every hurt. Was love the illness. And disease the cure. Make it go away