I Play Dead ( Bjork)

at IKRA, P Darling stop confusing me With your wishful thinking Hopeful embraces Don t you understand I have to go through this I belong to here where Noone cares and noone loves No light no air to live in A place called hate The city of fear I play dead It stops the hurting I play dead And the hurting stops It s sometimes just like sleeping Curling up inside my private tortures I nestle into pain Hug suffering aress every ache I play dead, It stops the hurting