Is it love? Is it gout?
I've left my door open
So you can walk out

Is there nothing beneath my coat, this doubt?

All I can smell is the gingerbread men
Marching between the sheets
With red hats and sweet treats

They don't know how to act
Which roleplay to enact

For the voice that pleases me
Is hiding in the deep blue sea
They whimper and they feel
All the things they could not heal
And run as far as their sweet calves
Can manage.