Crumpled cotton bed, And aching white lace Pigeon-winged Lucy With a smile on her face Cavernous cut, And the weeping harpoon Fearing a man In the dust of the moon Nightmare city, I’ve been walking in circles for days I stare at my fingernails And I assume that it’s all a phase My crumpled cotton bed Oh my My crumpled cotton bed Nothing so great To be afraid of Nothing so great Nothing so great The scabs of old Are what we’re made of Nothing so great Nothing so great I asked you before, And you told me the same You said child, Nothing’s so great To take your name