shit-howdy sunshine, sit yourself down.

Isn't it funny that I don't feel comfortable
being almost nearly naked in my own house?
It's not that I don't feel comfortable in my own skin.
It's just that the windows are open.

It's not the fact the neighbors can see,
if they want to look, let them.
Nor is it the sound of the cars in the road outside,
those sounds that I used to run from when I was little.
It's just that the windows are open.

The windows are open and they're letting in the wind,
but I don't mind the wind either. The light's coming
in over the window sills, warming the floor boards,
but the windows are open.
And I can't breathe.