Middle Of The Sun
These paints of seeming plight and ill repute
Are yellow in their fright of solitude
Where once sealed in a jar
Have now exploded on the walls
Of my womb, for me to rue
These figures I have clipped into cartoons
Are so representative of my gloom
Well I’d love to paste them all
Against my big black splattered wall
Of my womb, for me to rue
These walls of wanton fame are quite astute
To the lashing of my flames and that I shoot
Well I’ve come here seeking life
But it’s only mine to fight
In solitude, in solitude
Chorus
In the middle
In the middle of the sun
