Seasons condensed into one room It snows here in mid July I'll pile it into a corner I'll heap it against the door Stick all my to do lists together And paint them into the walls Leave your half beaten coat Hanging on top of mine There's no dirt in here Time exists on a circular plane As a human I have no choice Amongst the dead I have too many As a human I have no voice Amongst the dead I have too many Seasons condensed into one room Snow drifts hanging out with rain Lack lustre rivers can wander The trains de-railed inside my brain I got a fear of all illiterates But nothing scares me like myself Dead to my surroundings But nothing scares me like myself Time exists on a circular plane