Heaven is an uninspired piece of art

I'm a sort of raging shut-in Wondering where to run I live on And I give on But the surface of the sun Is melting all my darkness down I shouldn't But I frown At all the sick normality Hinting slight formality Refusing my reality Can't help to see what other's do When all my shades come back to blue I will describe my better days In more esteem than you should care That's what I dare And if in passing fancy The end of life comes thither To what tunes shall we wither? I think I know But now I'll go It was a solemn sort of gesture Looking back on yesteryear That flight into my cosmic sphere That drags me forth And makes me who I see But from me I'd rather flee In contradictive terms I follow All those speakers make me hollow What shall come of that which slightly Makes my fingers tremble nightly?