7:37 PM bitsounds 0 Comments

I produce too much of something, not enough of something else

But the doctors cannot help me with the puzzle of my health

And I’m tired of easy music

And I’m tired of pretty girls

And I’m tired of being tired

And I’m tired of being hurt

I am the soldier at the back who is burdened by his books

Though I stare into the mirror, it does not tell me how I look

So I’m shaving in the darkness and I’m turning in my sleep

And I’m turning like a monster with a dead man in his teeth

Oh, part-monster