Rainmakers Skin
(B. Walkenhorst) Who am I, I don't know, I have no idea When my friends look at me I wonder who they think they're seeing Search me, layer by layer But inside I'm afraid you'll find thin air Yeah, yes, guess again Who we might be underneath this skin What makes me tick? How should I know, I've been trained like a monkey The bell rings and I start to jones like a junkie What turns me on? I wish I knew Wish I could tell the real thing My honest desire from my conditioning Touch me now, now touch me again I want to feel something real coming through this skin I've been boxing with my shadow, winded and tagged I can't punch my way our of a paper bag It's as thick as you think, thin as the reasoning you bought I'm a mummy wrapped in a gauze of my own thoughts And I want to know who I'd be If I never had bathed in the static, the snow, and the radio wave The flickering image, the pandering thought That's been passed off and on To be the blueprint of God Hey yes, guess again Who we might be if we could shed this skin
