David Gray

Neath an avalanche soft as moss.
I'm a creeping and intangible sense of loss.
I'm the memory, you can't get out your head.
If I leave you now,
You'll wish you were somewhere else instead.
I'm the manta ray, I'm the louse,
I am a photograph, they found in your burned out house.
I'm the sound of money washing down the drain.
I am the pack of lies, baby, that keeps you sane.
Gates of Heaven are open wide.
God help me, baby, I'm trapped inside.
Feel like I'm buried alive.
I'm the bottom line, of the joke,
I am ecstasy, spilling like bright egg yolk.
I'm the thoughts you're too ashamed to ever share.