An Artists Inner-Demons
Neurosis imposes osteoporosis through Ouroboros like locusts
Focus is broken so just blitz like Germans in Poland
Anxiety lies to me and starts fighting me in 451 degrees
Mind exploding like Boeing 747 Max's with 157 casualties
Survival is a trial to lift my kind
Wallpaper's yellow, might be more mellow if you play the cello
Dog's not yellow, might go mental if I use this pencil
Friends got Orwellian messages or their Machiavellians
Adrenaline from conversation with close ones is my situation
But I might have lied and blighted their mind and life
Haitian earthquake or hurricane on lunch break on Sunday
Someday I will have graffiti on my frame of shame
but why be pessimistic or mystic when there's optimistic
Everyone'll listen but'll flip it and'll miss it
optimism is a trick but pessimism is acidic
My cerebrum's still noxious, filled with toxins
filled with acid and plastic that saran wraps victims
I'll always be Rambo and go all Van Gogh
But in the Kola Borehole, I'm vulnerable
The great filter awaits to kill the big
Schizophrenic or angelic, a soldier or murderer or Belic
Felon making ends for a family of ten is Satanic
But sit back, don't worry, relax with hats off
To Kraków we're off, coming back we're not
Life is sweeter when you're ignorant
At least until you get into it
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