I think something inside don’t work right

Those greyed pink strands That trickle with a crackle As neurons motor there their weigh That Brian that named itself I gave the voices in my head their own costumes Some synapses may have snap …………………………..………p …………………………………..e …………………………………..d Some people don’t have an inner voice I think I got their share Some just grunt Not the day to ask how I am Some whisper tirades of alarms Some plot within while chances of escape are slim They all came from planets No earthlings Scarred Wars Things Han could have responded…. Me and Luke are a thing Once you go Chewie… Get your stuff outta of the falcon You snogged your brother I am doing this to get away from you, you nutter My name is Indiana Something something this comes way.