If I were a leather jacket,
Would you wear my wrinkly skin?
Would you laugh with satisfaction,
And forget my suffering?
If I were a pair of shoes,
My hair, hand woven in your shorts,
Would you play a sport with me,
Me the lifeless murdered corpse?
If I were your scaly bag,
My belly’s skin that shoulder strap,
My foot’s hard crust your bag’s main case,
Would you stroke me on your lap?
If I were your dearest shawl,
A scarf made from my head and back,
My hair a silky, shiny fur,
Would you love this dead old sack?
If I were indeed your shawl,
Would you look into my eyes?
Say you’re sorry for exchanging
Your pleasure with my worthless life?
