I’m not sick, but I’m not well…

I had visions, I was in them. I was looking into the mirror to see a little bit clearer – the rottenness and evil in me. Fingertips have memories and I can’t forget the curves of your body. And when I feel a bit naughty I run it up the flagpole and see who salutes, but no-one ever does.

Been around the world and found that only stupid people are breeding. The cretins cloning and feeding … and I don’t even own a TV. Put me in the hospital for nerves and then they had to commit me. You told them all I was crazy. They cut off my legs, now I’m an amputee, god damn you. I’m not sick, but I’m not well.

I want to publish scenes and rage against machines. I wanna pierce my tongue, it doesn’t hurt it feels fine. But you don’t look so fine. I’d like to turn off time. To kill my mind. To kill my mind. Paranoia, paranoia … everybody’s coming to get me, just say you never met me. I’m running underground with the moles, digging in holes. Hear the voices in my head, I swear to god it sounds like they’re snoring. But if you’re bored, then you’re boring. The agony and the irony, they’re killing me.

I’m not sick, but I’m not well. And I’m so hot, cos I’m in hell. I’m not sick, but I’m not well. And it’s a sin, to look this well.

Comments (3):

  1. Julian

    December 3, 2007 at 10:50 am

    Isn’t the line, “I want to publish ‘zines, and rage against machines” not publish scenes?

    Reply

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