Playwright

Our house
Is a carboard box
Outside the streetlights
Bend down the curve

By the window
She pulls the curtain
"They're all here
Under the streetlight
Let's do that trick we do"

But this is not an illusion
This is the way the world's supposed to be

All of this
Has already happened
Inside and behind

I want to know why all this sorrow
Makes the streetlight burn so cold

"My pleasures are of corruption"
She snuffs out the light above the street
"The darkness touches my heart
As sure as they never will"

This is not the way the world's supposed to be
All of this
Has already happened
Inside and behind
Inside her mind
Behind the curtain

This is not my house or my street
This is not the way the world's supposed to be