What happens when we can’t tell ourselves apart from the secrets we keep locked inside? What if they had a say? Would they decide when enough is enough? Would they even know how to leave? Or more importantly: How to stay gone?

Is it mad to miss something you once were dying to escape from?

'bedlam baby' is about begging a sicker version of ourselves to drag us back to hell, because now we know better than to go back willingly. Don't we all look back sometimes and miss the bad old days?