”darling, stop confusing me / with your wishful thinking / hopeful embraces / don´t you understand? / I have to go through this / I belong to where / no-one cares and no-one 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 / caress every ache / I play dead / it stops the hurting”

Björk