Hello and how are you, dear? How I miss your caress. And those long skinny fingers, dear, how they moves you undress. Each knife in my blood, it’s better to forget. I fill my days up with nights, my dear, my eyes wince inside the light. ‘Cause the sun dries up my guts, my dear, so I drink ‘em back to life. Like limbs of a tree, my dear, old and rigid we grow. And describe our moss, my dear, live my life like a joke. And if that’s the case, my dear, can I laugh at myself?