Sleep on. And dream of love. Because it's the closest you will get. To love. Poor twisted child. So ugly so ugly. Poor twisted child. Oh hug me oh hug me. One november. Spawned a monster. In the shape of this child. Who later cried. "but jesus made me so. Jesus save me from. Pity sympathy. And people discussing me". A frame of useless limbs. What can make good. All the bad that's been done?. And if the lights were out. Could you even bear. To kiss her full on the mouth. (or anywhere?). Oh poor twisted child. So ugly so ugly. Poor twisted child. Oh hug me oh hug me. One november. Spawned a monster. In the shape of this child. Who must remain. A hostage to kindness. And the wheels underneath her. A hostage to kindness. And the wheels underneath her. A symbol of where mad mad lovers. Must pause and draw the line. So sleep and dream of love. Because it's the closest. You will get to love. That november. Is a time which I must. Put out of my mind. Oh one fine day. Let it be soon. She won't be rich or beautiful. But she'll be walking your streets. In the clothes that she went out. And chose for herself.