Pool Of Thoughts

Or-A-Ga-Me

I hate that I'm in
My paper skin
(No one can bleed me, but I crumple myself)

You fold me up
'Til I can't feel a thing
(No one can bleed me, yet I crumple myself)

And all of these borders
Have made me foreign
How can I
Get myself out of this?

And all of these borders
Are made of water
If I touch
I'll drown myself to death