I can live with myself, with all of my flaws
Holes in my skin, these curtainless windows
for voyeurists’ eyes.
Comfy is my skin, with my life in a vacuum
Shameless to admit I might be a lie.
With everyone naked, altruism is to blame
and Darwin’s finger becomes a pointer
Elephants evolve in living rooms.
Comfy in my skin, but that’s the catch
It’s your gavel hand that I don’t trust.
Normalcy is numbers, and which is to blame
for the paradox of these floorboards
Elephants are divine.