My veins are celluloid,
My skin is made of wood,
I kept along the lighting fires,
Trying to get rid of myself.
Wake a little skin for the shredder,
Fill the basket with my pieces,
If I walk in the wind,
I’ll just be carried away,
Take me to the stars so I may be light,
I know not what you want of me in this life,
Flax off in pieces; I’ll be paper today/
& I just need a little water to grow up
& I just need a little sunshine to grow up