Songtexte: Bjá¶rk. Play Dead.

:
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 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