All I do is think, think, think
Nothing else, I think
I think I’m on the brink
Can’t let it slip away
I’m knocking on the door of the palace
In my heart everyday.
Sitting in my room, room, room
No room for nobody
Delineate the gloom
Oh, the melody of malady
I’m waiting for the light to erupt
In a mind of clay.
Writing in my books, books, books
Of my observations
Crazy symmetries manifest
In my occupations
I gotta PHD from the university
Of pain.
Ooooh, why?
Ooooh, high...
Living on my own, own, alone
The only voice I hear is mine
As I speak with myself
As I feel my self is dying
Got to hurry if I’m ever gonna
Make it break it
Living in my hole, hole
A whole lot of anti-knowledge
This mirror-house replicates
All I understand
I am driven by a passionate dispassion
And a strange hand.
I say hawk-foot, crystal-ball
No! I need a reason
Cannot let superstitions
Hold my soul to ransom
I got out and blew
It all away.
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