I used to talk to god in the dark wilds of my grans cupboard under the stairs

I used to walk around the playground looking for friends just getting blank glares

I used to think god was a man but it’s probably a goddess I was looking for

I used to think I had the key to heavens door,

I broke into her house looking to talk some more

I used to want to be last messenger of god but the girl with many faces needs someone else

I have walked through the white corridors of mental asylums

I have been a child trying to find her

She left me clues

this is the haunted man once a strange child blues.