Exposed.

On my hot air balloon
we were sailing on a backwards tide
and upside down on the see-saw of it. We'd
been hiding our affections in that basket 

at least in the corner of it, less near the rain. I'd been saying
to the public sky. 'I won't love this man, he's not worth my time.'
Yet under the princess covers we packed in the box I say it with pride. Yet
you want me to scream it at the top of my lungs

until they're bleeding, until I'm creeping
round this square, flying basket on hands and knees
but I won't do that, I don't trust you, you see?
In this hot air balloon

we'd been sailing on an invisible sky
over the top of those broken lies. We'd been hiding
from cameras in the flaming, balloon shadow. I'd been saying
to the world below. 'I won't love this man, he's not worth my time.'

Yet under your batman covers, we packed in the box, I say it with pride
for those hot air balloon days were the best hours of my life. Yet
you want me to scream it until my voice box breaks,
until my body shakes, until I'm creeping

round this square, flying basket on hands and knees
but I can't do that, you see?
You frighten me,
you take my wrists or their broken pieces
and throw them off as sandbags.
You know, for all to see,
I'm too exposed.